PRINCETON,    N.    J. 


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THE 


OR 


HYMNS  THAT  HAVE  A  HISTORY. 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ORIGIN  OF  HYMNS  OF  PERSONAL  RELIGIOUS 
EXPERIENCE. 


BY  HEZEKIAH  ''bUTTERWORTH. 


.M^^ 


AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

150    NASSAU   STREET,   NEW  YORK. 


N. 


Et^TERED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

THE  AMERICAN  TRACT  SOCIETY, 

in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress  at  Washington. 


OGrns^  i 


..  ^ 


Preface--  -- -- page  7 

/.    TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH. 

"All  hail  the  Power  of  Jesus'  Name."     Perronet 13 

"  A  Mighty  Fortress  is  our  God."     Luther - 15 

"Praise  God,  from  whom  all  Blessings  flow."     Ken 17 

"  Glory  to  Thee,  my  God,  this  night."    Ken 22 

"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me."    Toplady 24 

"A  Debtor  to  Mercy  alone."     Toplady 29 

"  Guide  me,  O  Thou  Great  Jehovah."     Williams 30 

"Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  hear  our  Vows."     Doddridge-- 34 

"  Come,  ye  Sinners,  poor  and  needy."     Hart —  35 

"  Blest  be  the  Tie  that  binds."     Fawcett 37 

"From  Greenland's  Icy  Mountains."     Heber - 40 

"Mighty  God,  while  Angels  bless  Thee."    Robinson 42 

"  Far  from  the  World,  O  Lord,  I  flee."    Cowper 44 

"  God  moves  in  a  Mysterious  Way."    Cowper -  47 

"  I  love  to  steal  a  while  away."     Brow^n 48 

"  When  All  thy  Mercies,  O  my  God."     Addison — 50 

"O  thou,  my  Soul,  forget  no  more."    Krishnu-Pal 52 

"Jesus,  my  All,  to  Heaven  is  gone."     Cennick -  54 

"Father,  whate'er  of  Earthly  Bliss."     Steele 58 

"Jesus,  and  shall  it  ever  be?"     Grigg -  60 

"Vital  Spark  of  Heavenly  Flame."     Pope - 62 


4  CONTENTS, 

II.  HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  - 

King  Robert's  Hymn 67 

St.  Fulbert  of  Chartres'  Hymn - 69 

Hymn  of  Gustavus  Adolphus -  70 

St.  Francis  Xavier's  Hymn 71 

jThomas  k  Kempis'  Hymn  -- - 73 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  Hymn 78 

Gerhardt's  Hymn  of  Trust 80 

Klopstock's  Hymn 86 

Samuel  Rutherford  — - 92 

Addison's  Traveller's  Hymn - 98 

Count  Zinzendorf's  Hymn 99 

Lady  Huntingdon's  Hymn - -- loi 

John  Wesley's  Hymn  in  the  Itinerancy - 104 

Charles  Wesley's  Watch-night  Hymns 107 

"  "        Hymn  in  Time  of  Trouble no 

Langhorn's  "It  is  told  me  I  must  die  " 114 


///.   SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE. 

"Lord,  dismiss  us  with  thy  Blessing."     Shirley 123 

"Peace,  troubled  Soul."     Shirley 126 

"Sweet  the  moments  rich  in  blessing."     Shirley 127 

"  Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  Night."     Bowring 128 

"While  Thee  I  seek,  protecting  Power."     Miss  Williams 129 

"  Hark,  the  Voice  of  Love  and  Mercy."    Evans - 131 

"  When,  marshalled  on  the  nightly  Plain."     White 132 

"While  with  ceaseless  Course  the  Sun."    Newton - 134 

" On  the  Mountain-top  appearing."     Kelly -- 135 

"If  I  must  die,  oh,  let  me  die."     Beddome 138 

"Awake,  my  Soul,  in  joyful  Lays,"    Medley 139 


IV.  ORIGIN  OF  FA  VORITE  SUNDA  Y-SCHOOL  HYMNS. 

"Shepherd  offender  Youth."    Anon. 145 

"  There  is  a  Happy  Land."    Young 146 

"I  think  when  I  read  that  Sweet  Story  of  Old."     Mrs.  Luke 146 


CONTENTS.  5 

*' We  speak  of  the  Realms  of  the  Blest."    Mrs.  Mills    148 

"Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep." 148 

"Golden  Head  so  lowly  bending."    Putnam's  Magazine 148 

"'Now  I  lay,' — repeat  it,  darling."    Lutheran  Monthly 149 

"  I  want  to  be  an  Angel."    Mrs.  Gill - 150 

" 'T  is  Religion  that  can  give."     Mary  Masters 152 

\Stand  up  for  Jesus."     DUFFIELD 152 

"Daily,  daily  sing  the  Praises."     GouLD - 154 

"Just  as  I  am."    Elliott 155 

"By  cool  Siloam's  shady  Rill."     Heber — 155 

"O  Mother  dear,  Jerusalem."     Baker 156 

"Jerusalem,  my  happy  Home" 158 

" Heaven  is  my  Home."    Taylor-- - ---  159 

"God  calling  yet."    Tersteegen 162 

"Little  Travellers  Zionward."    Edmeston 165 

"Land  ahead,  its  Fruits  are  waving" - 166 

X' He  leadeth  me  !  oh,  blessed  Thought."     Gilmore — 167 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  our  Father  in  Heaven."     Bliss - 169 

"  I  gave  my  Life  for  thee."    Miss  F.  R.  Havergal 169 

« 
V.  SEAMEN'S  HYMNS. 

"  Fierce  was  the  wild  Billow."    Anatolius 173 

<' Jesus,  Lover  of  my  Soul."    Charles  Wesley - 174 

"When  through  the  torn  Sail."    Heber -- 175 

"'Listed  in  the  Cause  of  Sin."     Charles  WESLEY - 176 

"  I  hear  the  Tempest's  awful  Sound."    John  Newton 177 


VI.  INDIAN  HYMNS. 

" In  de  dark  wood,  no  Indian  nigh."    Apes 181 

"When  shall  we  three  meet  again" 182 

"Wrted  many  a  toil-spent  year" 183 


VII.  RECENT  HYMN-WRITERS  AND  THEIR  HYMNS. 

Frederick  William  Faber 187 

Rev.  John  Keble r 190 

1* 


6  CONTENTS. 

Horatius  Bonar,  D.  D. I94 

Charlotte  Elliott I97 

Sarah  Flower  Adams 201 

Phoebe  Gary 205 

Ray  Palmer,  D.D. 209 

Rev.  Henry  Francis  Lyte 211 

Rev.  John  Henry  Newman - - 215 


VIII.  AUTO-BIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS. 

Dr.  Watt's  Personal  Hymns 2ig 

Charles  Wesley's  Hymns  for  Special  Occasions 225 

James  Montgomery's  Hymns  of  Personal  Experience 227 

Thomas  Olivers'  "The  God  of  Abram  praise" 234 

The  Hymns  of  Madame  Guyon 237 


IX.  FAMILIAR  HYMNS,  AUTHORS,  DATES,  ETC.    245 


X.  HYMN  WRITERS,  AND  THEIR  HYMNS 267 


PREFACE, 


In  preparing  the  "  Story  of  the  Hymns"  the  writer  does 
Rot  aim,  like  Miller,  in  his  "  Singers  and  Songs  of  the  Church," 
to  give  a  complete  or  nearly  complete  history,  of  the  origin  of 
all  hymns  in  common  use,  but  only  of  such  as  are  the  result  of 
some  peculiar  circumstance  or  special  religious  experience. 
The  hymns  that  the  church  best  Icves,  and  most  carefully 
preserves,  are,  for  the  most  part,  the  fruit  of  eventful  lives, 
luminous  religious  experiences,  severe  discipline,  or  unusual 
sorrow.  It  is  the  writer's  object  to  associate  such  hymns  with 
the  peculiar  circumstances  that  inspired  them,  and  to  explain 
the  personal  and  local  allusions  that  enter  largely  into  their 
composition.  The  volume  might  properly  have  been  called 
"The  Origin  of  Hymns  of  Religious  Experience." 

Confidence  adds  largely  to  the  enjoyment  of  what  we  read, 
and  nothing  more  tends  to  increase  our  confidence  in  any 
literary  composition  than  to  know  that  the  author  wrote  as  he 
felt,  and  teaches  what  he  himself  has  experienced.  Nearly 
all  works,  written  merely  for  effect,  are  ephemeral.  The 
tinsel  of  fancy  and  mere  sentiment  fades,  while  words  coined 
from  the  heart's  pure  gold  live  with  the  ages. 

The  sacred  writers  were  careful  to  preserve  the  history  of 


8  PREFACE, 

nearly  every  psalm,  from  that  of  Miriam,  when  Pharaoh  and 
his  host  were  destroyed,  to  those  of  Mary  in  the  presence  of 
Elizabeth  and  Simeon  in  the  Temple.  We  better  understand 
the  awful  and  shadowy  grandeur  of  the  ninetieth  psalm,  when 
it  is  explained  to  us  that  it  is  the  "prayer  which  Moses  the 
man  of  God  prayed"  after  the  people  had  sinned  in  the  wilder- 
ness. We  can  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  eighth  psalm,  which 
describes  the  sublimity  of  the  celestial  scenery  at  night,  with  a 
clearer  insight  when  we  are  told  that  it  was  written  by  the 
shepherd  of  Bethlehem,  after  he  had  proved  himself  victorious 
over  the  melancholy  of  Saul  at  home,  and  over  the  champion 
of  the  Philistines  in  the  field.  It  interests  us  to  know  that  the 
first  psalm  was  written  for  the  jubilant  assembly  of  King  Asa, 
that  the  forty-fifth  connects  itself  with  the  splendors  of  the 
reign  of  Jehoshaphat,  that  the  twenty-fourth  and  twenty-fifth 
celebrate  the  removal  of  the  ark  after  the  conquest  of  Jerusa- 
lem, and  that  the  thirtieth  was  written  for  the  dedication  of 
the  House  of  David.  So  also  in  regard  to  the  psalms  that 
belong  to  the  reign  of  Hezekiah,  and  refer  to  the  destruction 
of  the  Assyrians ;  and  the  great  Hebrew  choral,  or  one  hundred 
and  seventh  psalm,  sung  at  the  Feast  of  the  Tabernacles. 

Poets  are  the  song-birds  of  human  nature,  the  interpreters 
of  human  feeling ;  and  they  only  are  worthy  of  the  name,  in 
whose  interpretations  we  find  our  own  unexpressed  thoughts 
and  feelings  and  experiences.  The  sacred  poet,  like  the  Levite 
of  old,  is  still  a  minister  in  the  temple ;  he  still  kindles  the 
altar  fires  of  holy  feeling,  and  from  his  own  spiritual  indwell- 
ing, insight,  and  inner  communings,  he  puts  into  language  for 


PREFACE.  9 

us  those  emotions,  dispositions,  desires,  that  our  hearts  recog- 
nize and  yet  our  lips  fail  of  uttering.  He  takes  us  to  moun- 
tain tops  of  feeling,  into  valleys  of  shadow,  and  leads  by 
streams  of  refreshing,  and  into  solitudes  of  restfulness  and 
calm.  But  to  understand  him  best,  we  must  know  the  wa3'-s 
b;  which  he  himself  has  been  led,  and  have  the  assurance  that 
it  is  a  trusty  guide  with  whom  we  enter  into  holy  companion- 
ship. 

The  essential  marks  of  a  good  hymn,  remarks  Earl  Nelson, 
are,  "i.  It  must  be  full  of  Scripture.  2.  Full  of  individual 
life  and  reality.  3.  It  must  have  the  acceptance  of  the  use 
of  the  church.  4.  It  must  be  pure  in  its  English,  in  its  rhyme 
and  its  rhythm."  He  adds:  "A  hymn  coming  from  a  deep 
communing  with  God,  and  from  the  special  experience  of  the 
human  heart,  at  once  fulfils,  and  only  can  fulfil,  the  tests  I 
have  ventured  to  lay  down." 

The  number  of  hymns  in  the  language  is  very  large.  Sir 
Roundell  Palmer  estimates  that  the  hymns  of  Watts,  Browne, 
Doddridge,  Charles  Wesley,  Newton,  Beddome,  Kelly,  and 
Montgomery,  number  6,500;  and  Mr.  Sedgwick,  an  English 
writer  on  hymns,  published  in  1861  a  catalogue  of  618  authors 
who  are  represented  in  various  English  hymn-books. 

Of  these  hymns,  only  the  fittest  survive,  and  the  most  help- 
ful stand  the  test  of  time.  It  usually  happens  that  the  most 
painstaking  and  elaborate  productions  of  the  Christian  lyrist 
are  the  first  to  perish,  while  some  minor  expression  of  sincere 
religious  feeling  is  the  surest  to  live,  and  take  its  place 
among  the  recognized  lyrics  of  the  church. 


lO 


PREFACE. 


The  larger  portion  of  the  hymns  whose  history  is  given  in 
this  volume  is  familiar  to  all  who  have  had  the  training  of  the 
Christian  church.  The  religious  experiences  out  of  which 
these  hymns  grew  are  not  as  familiar  to  those  who  have  not 
made  a  special  study  of  the  subject.  That  the  book  may  lead 
some  to  better  know  the  guides  of  their  spiritual  journey,  whose 
experiences  almost  daily  mingle  with  their  own  in  the  sweet 
sympathies  of  song,  is  the  devout  wish  of  the  author. 


I.  TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH. 


1.  ALL  HAIL  THE  POWER  OF  JESUS'  NAME. 

2.  A  MIGHTY  FORTRESS  IS  OUR  GOD. 

3.  PRAISE  GOD  FROM  WHOM  ALL  BLESSINGS  FLOW, 

4.  KEN'S  MORNING  HYMN. 

5.  KEN'S  EVENING  HYMN. 

6.  ROCK  OF  AGES,  CLEFT  FOR  ME! 

7.  FULL  ASSURANCE. 

8.  GUIDE  ME,  O  THOU  GREAT  JEHOVAH. 

9.  LORD  OF  THE  SABBATH,  HEAR  OUR  VOWS. 

10.  COME,   YE  SINNERS,  POOR  AND  NEEDY. 

11.  BLEST  BE  THE  TIE  THAT  BINDS. 

12.  FROM  GREENLAND'S  ICY  MOUNTAINS. 

13.  MIGHTY  GOD,   WHILE  ANGELS  BLESS  THEE. 

14.  FAR  FROM  THE  WORLD. 

15.  GOD  MOVES  IN  A  MYSTERIOUS  WAY. 

16.  I  LOVE  TO  STEAL  A   WHILE  AWAY. 

17.  WHEN  ALL  THY  MERCIES,  O  MY  GOD. 

18.  O  THOU,  MY  SOUL,  FORGET  NO  MORE. 

19.  JESUS,  MY  ALL,  TO  HEA  VEN  IS  GONE. 

20.  FATHER,   WHATE'ER  OF  EARTHLY  BLISS. 

21.  JESUS,  AND  SHALL  IT  EVER  BE! 

22.  VITAL  SPARK  OF  HEA  VENL  Y  FLAME. 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH 


''ALL  HAIL  THE  POWER  OF  JESUS'  NAMEP 

Edward  Perronet,  the  author  of  the  most  inspiring 
and  triumphant  hymn  in  the  English  language,  is  a  bene- 
factor whose  history  is  but  little  known.  He  was  a  man 
of  great  humility  of  character,  but  was  sustained  amid 
many  vicissitudes  of  life  by  an  all-victorious  faith. 

He  was  the  son  of  Rev.  Vincent  Perronet,  an  excel- 
lent English  clergyman  of  the  old  school,  who  was  vicar 
of  Shoreham  for  fifty  years.  He  left  the  established 
church  in  early  life,  and  became  a  Methodist.  He  was  a 
bosom  friend  of  Rev.  Charles  Wesley,  in  whose  diary 
mention  of  him  may  be  found,  beginning  about  the  year 
1750.  He  was  one  of  the  preachers  appointed  under  the 
patronage  of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  and,  adding 
an  ardent  zeal  to  a  humble  and  sympathetic  nature,  his 
labors  in  the  ministry  were  for  a  time  attended  with 
marked  success.  But  Perronet  was  at  heart  an  oppo- 
nent of  the  union  of  church  and  state,  and  at  last  pro- 
duced an  anonymous  poem  entitled  the  "  Mitre,"  a  keen 
satire   on    the   national    establishment.      This   hostility 


14  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

brought  him  under  the  displeasure  of  the  countess.     He 

severed  his  connection  with  her  society,  and  became  the 

pastor  of  a  small  congregation  of  Dissenters,  to  whom 

he  preached  till  his  death,  which  took  place  in  January, 

1792. 

His  death  was  triumphant,  and  is  an  evidence  of  the 

sincerity  of  the  piety  which  inspired  his  rapturous  hymn. 

His  majestic  faith  seemed  to  lift  his  soul  above  the  world, 

and  to  antedate  that  coronation  day  when  the  cherubic 

hosts  and  the  redeemed  shall 

•"  Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem, 
And  crown  Him  Lord  of  all !" 

His  dying  testimony  was : 

"  Glory  to  God  in  the  height  of  his  divinity ! 
Glory  to  God  in  the  depth  of  his  humanity! 
Glory  to  God  in  his  all-sufficiency ! 
Unto  his  hands  I  commend  rny  spirit." 

The  following  is  the  original  version  of  Perronet's 
jubilant  hymn,  which  has  become  one  of  the  grandest  as 
well  as  the  most  familiar  tones  of  the  church : 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name  ! 

Let  angels  prostrate  fall; 
Bring  forth  the  royal  diadem. 

To  crown  him  Lord  of  all. 

Crown  him,  ye  martyrs  of  your  God, 

Who  from  his  altar  call ; 
Extol  the  Stem  of  Jesse's  rod, 

And  crown  him  Lord  of  all. 

Hail  him,  ye  heirs  of  David's  line, 

Whom  David  "Lord"  did  call; 
The  God  incarnate  !  Man  divine  ! 

And  crown  him  Lord  of  all ! 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS.  15 

Ye  seed  of  Israel's  chosen  race. 

Ye  ransomed  of  the  fall, 
Hail  him  who  saves  you  by  his  grace, 

And  crown  him  Lord  of  all. 

Sinners,  whose  love  can  ne'er  forget 

The  wormwood  and  the  gall, 
Go,  spread  your  trophies  at  his  feet, 

And  crown  him  Lord  of  all. 

Let  every  tribe  and  every  tongue 

That  bound  creation's  call, 
Now  shout  the  universal  song. 

The  crowned  Lord  of  all. 


"^  MIGHTY  FORTRESS  IS  OUR  GOOr 
S.  T.  Coleridge  says  that  Martin  Luther  did  as  much 
for  the  Reformation  by  his  hymns,  as  by  his  translation 
of  the  Bible.  The  hymns  of  Luther  were  indeed  the 
battle-cry  and  trumpet-call  of  the  Reformation :  "  The 
children  learned  them  in  the  cottage,  and  martyrs  sung 
them  on  the  scaffold." 
The  hymn  beginning 

"  Ein'  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott," 
is  the  grandest  of  Luth<  r's  hymns,  and  is  in  harmony 
with  sublime  historical  ]jeriods,  from  its  very  nature, 
boldness,  and  sublimity  It  was  written,  according  to 
Welles,  in  the  memorable  year  when  the  evangelical 
princes  delivered  their  protest  at  the  Diet  of  Spires, 
from  which  the  word  and  the  meaning  of  the  word 
"Protestant"  is  derived.  "Luther  used  often  to  sing  it 
in  1530,  while  the  Diet  of  Augsburg  was  sitting.     It  soon 


i6  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

became  the  favorite  psalm  with  the  people.  It  was  one 
of  the  watchwords  of  the  Reformation,  cheering  armies 
to  conflict,  and  sustaining  believers  in  the  hours  of  fiery 
trial. 

"After  Luther's  death,  when  his  affectionate  coadju- 
tor Melancthon  was  at  Weimar  with  his  banished  friends 
Jonas  and  Creuziger,  he  heard  a  little  maid  singing  this 
psalm  in  the  street,  and  said,  '  Sing  on,  my  little  girl,  you 
little  know  whom  you  comfort'  The  first  line  of  this 
hymn  is  inscribed  on  Luther's  tomb  at  Wittenburg." 

A  MIGHTY  fortress  is  our  God, 

A  bulwark  never  failing ; 
Our  helper  he,  amid  the  flood 

Of  mortal  ills  prevailing. 
For  still  our  ancient  foe 
Doth  seek  to  work  us  woe ; 
His  craft  and  power  are  great, 
And,  armed  with  cruel  hate, 

On  earth  is  not  his  equal. 

Did  we  in  our  own  strength  confide, 
Our  striving  would  be  losing — 

Were  not  the  right  man  on  our  side, 
The  man  of  God's  own  choosing. 

Dost  ask,  who  that  may  be  ? 

Christ  Jesus,  it  is  he; 

His  name  Lord  Sabaoth, 

Our  God  and  Saviour  both. 
He  shall  our  souls  deliver. 

And  though  this  world,  with  devils  filled, 

Should  threaten  to  undo  us, 
We  will  not  fear,  for  God  hath  willed 

His  truth  to  triumph  through  us. 


®a  MAM^IK  LUTEIISIEo 


"Here  I  stand. 
I  Ciinnot  3.0  otherwise.  Goilielp  klo!  Amen? 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS.  ij 

The  Prince  of  Darkness  grim — 
We  tremble  not  for  him : 
His  rage  we  can  endure, 
For  lo !  his  doom  is  sure, 
One  little  word  shall  fell  him. 

That  word  above  all  earthly  powers — 

No  thanks  to  them — abideth  ; 
The  Spirit  and  the  gifts  are  ours, 

Through  Him  who  with  us  sideth. 
Let  goods  and  kindred  go, 
This  mortal  life  also ; 
The  body  they  may  kiU, 
God's  truth  abideth  still. 

His  kingdom  is  for  ever. 


*' praise  god  from  whom  all  blessings 
flow:' 

The  grand  doxology,  beginning, 

"  Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow," 

is  suited  to  all  religious  occasions,  to  all  Christian  de- 
nominations, to  all  times,  places,  and  conditions  of  men, 
and  has  been  translated  into  all  civilized  tongues,  and 
adopted  by  the  church  universal.  Written  more  than 
two  hundred  years  ago,  it  has  become  the  grandest  tone 
in  the  anthem  of  earth's  voices  continually  rising  to 
heaven.  As  England's  drum-call  follows  the  sun,  so  the 
tongues  that  take  up  this  grateful  ascription  of  praise 
are  never  silent,  but  incessantly  encircle  the  earth  with 
their  melody. 
^  Thomas  Ken,  (Kenn,)  the  writer  of  the  hymns  that 
first  contained  this  magnificent  stanza,  in  the  form  that 

2* 


i8  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

it  is  now  used,  was  born  at  Berkhamstead,  England,  in 
1637,  and  was  educated  at  Oxford.  He  early  in  life  con- 
secrated himself  to  God,  and  became  a  prelate.  He  was 
a  lover  of  holy  music.  The  organists  and  choristers  be- 
ing silenced  by  the  rigid  rule  of  Cromwell,  musical  socie- 
ties were  formed,  in  one  of  which  Ken  played  the  lute 
with  admirable  skill.  This  society  was  accustomed  to 
meet  in  the  college  chambers. 

The  Morning  and  the  Evening  Hymn,  which  end 
with  this  doxology,  were  originally  written  for  the  use 
of  the  students  in  Winchester  College,  and  were  append- 
ed to  a  devotional  work  which  he  himself  prepared,  en- 
titled "  The  Manual  of  Prayers."  In  this  latter  work  he 
thus  counsels  the  young  men  of  the  college:  "Be  sure 
to  sing  the  Morning  and  Evening  Hymns  in  your  cham- 
ber, devoutly  remembering  that  the  Psalmist  upon  happy 
experience  assures  you  that  it  is  a  good  thing  to  tell  of 
the  loving  kindness  of  the  Lord  early  in  the  morning  and 
of  his  truth  in  the  night  season."  These  hymns  were 
probably  at  first  printed  on  broad  sheets  of  paper  and 
sent  to  each  student's  room.  They  were  added  to  the 
Manual  for  Prayer  in  1697.  The  work  was  now  entitled, 
"  A  Manual  of  Prayers  for  the  Use  of  Scholars  in  Win- 
chester College  and  all  other  devout  Christians ;  to 
which  are  added  Three  Hymns,  Morning,  Evening,  and 
Midnight,  not  in  former  editions,  by  the  same  author." 

In  1679,  Ken  was  appointed  chaplain  to  Mary, 
Princess  of  Orange,  and  in  1680  chaplain  to  Charles  II. 
In  the  latter  capacity  he  fearlessly  did  his  duty,  as  one 
accountable  to  God  alone,  and  not  to  any  man.     He 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS.  19 

reproved  the  "  merry  monarch"  for  his  vices,  in  the 
plainest  and  most  direct  manner.  "  I  must  go  and  hear 
Ken  tell  me  my  faults,"  the  king  used  to  say  good-hu- 
moredly.  In  1684,  Charles  raised  him  to  the  see  of  Bath 
and  Wells. 

"  Before  he  became  a  bishop,"  says  Macaulay,  "  he 
had  maintained  the  honor  of  his  gown  by  refusing,  when 
the  court  was  at  Winchester,  to  let  Nell  Gwynn,  the 
king's  mistress,  lodge  at  the  house  which  he  occupied  as 
prebendary.  The  king  had  sense  enough  to  respect  so 
manly  a  spirit.  Of  all  the  prelates  he  liked  Ken  best." 
Charles  once  spoke  of  him  as  the  "  good  little  man  that 
refused  his  lodgings  to  poor  little  Nell." 

He  was  the  faithful  spiritual  adviser  of  Charles  II.  on 
his  death-bed,  and  attended  the  Duke  of  Monmouth  at 
his  execution.  He  resisted  the  reestablishment  of  popery 
under  James,  and  was  one  of  the  famous  "  seven  bishops" 
who  were  tried  for  treason  and  acquitted.  Having  sworn 
allegiance  to  James,  he  was  too  conscientious  to  break  his 
oath  on  the  ascension  of  William  III.,  Prince  of  Orange, 
and  was  deprived  of  his  bishopric  as  a  non-juror  at  the 
coronation. 

He  was  now  reduced  to  poverty,  a  condition  not  un- 
acceptable to  him,  for  he  was  not  allured  by  the  false 
glitter  of  the  courts  of  kings.  Like  Fenelon,  in  reti- 
ring from  places  of  splendor  and  power,  he  loved  to  be 
alone  with  his  God,  and  let  the  world  play  its  drama 
without  being  an  actor.  He  was  invited  by  Lord  Vis- 
count Weymouth  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days 
in  his  mansion  at  Longleat,  near  Frome,  in  Somerset- 


20  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

shire.  There,  enjoying  the  hospitality  of  a  small  suite  of 
rooms,  he  lived  in  happy  retirement  for  twenty  years, 
universally  respected  and  beloved.  Queen  Anne  offered 
to  restore  him  to  the  see  of  Bath  and  Wells,  but  he  de- 
clined the  position,  "with  grateful  thanks  for  her  majes- 
ty's gracious  remembrance  of  him,  having  long  since 
determined  to  remain  in  privacy." 

He  died  in  March,  17  lo,  and  was  buried  in  the  church- 
yard of  Frome.  He  had  requested  that  six  of  the  poor- 
est men  of  the  parish  might  carry  him  to  his  grave,  and 
that  he  might  be  interred  without  pomp  or  ceremony. 
This  accordingly  was  the  manner  of  his  burial. 

"The  moral  character  of  Ken,"  says  Lord  Macaulay, 
"  when  impartially  reviewed,  sustains  a  comparison  with 
any  in  ecclesiastical  history,  and  seems  to  approach,  as 
near  as  any  human  infirmity  permits,  to  the  ideal  of 
Christian  perfection." 

KEN'S  MORNING  HYMN. 

ORIGINAL  TEXT   OF    1697. 

Awake,  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun 
Thy  daily  stage  of  duty  run ; 
Shake  off  dull  sloth,  and  early  rise 
To  pay  thy  morning  sacrifice. 

Redeem  thy  misspent  time  that 's  past, 
And  live  this  day  as  if  thy  last ; 
Improve  thy  talent  with  due  care, 
'Gainst  the  great  day  thyself  prepare. 
Let  all  thy  converse  be  sincere, 
Thy  conscience  as  the  noonday  clear; 
Think  how  all-seeing  God  thy  ways 
And  all  thy  secret  thoughts  surveys. 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS.  21 

Influenced  of  the  Light  divine 
Let  thine  own  light  in  good  works  shine ; 
Reflect  all  heaven's  propitious  rays 
In  ardent  love  and  cheerful  praise. 

Wake  and  lift  up  thyself,  my  heart, 
And  with  the  angels  bear  thy  part, 
Who  all  night  long  unwearied  sing 
Glory  to  the  Eternal  King. 

I  wake,  I  wake,  ye  heavenly  choir, 
May  your  devotion  me  inspire. 
That  I  like  you  my  age  may  spend, 
Like  you  may  on  my  God  attend. 

May  I  like  you  in  GOD  delight. 
Have  all  day  long  my  God  in  sight. 
Perform  like  you  my  Maker's  will, 
Oh  may  I  never  more  do  ill. 

Had  I  your  wings  to  heaven  I  'd  fly; 
But  God  shaU  that  defect  supply. 
And  my  soul,  winged  with  warm  desire, 
Shall  all  day  long  to  heaven  aspire. 

Glory  to  thee  who  safe  hast  kept. 
And  hast  refreshed  me  while  I  slept ; 
Grant,  Lord,  when  I  from  death  shall  wake, 
I  may  of  endless  light  partake. 

I  would  not  wake,  nor  rise  again. 
E'en  heaven  itself  I  would  disdain, 
Wert  not  thou  there  to  be  enjoyed. 
And  I  in  hymns  to  be  employed. 

Heaven  is,  dear  Lord,  where'er  thou  art ; 
Oh  never  then  from  me  depart ; 
For  to  my  soul  't  is  hell  to  be, 
But  for  a  moment  without  thee. 


22  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Lord,  I  my  vows  to  thee  renew  ; 
Scatter  my  sins  as  morning  dew ; 
Guard  my  first  springs  of  tliouglit  and  will, 
And  with  thyself  my  spirit  fill. 

Direct,  control,  suggest  this  day, 
All  I  design,  or  do,  or  say ; 
That  all  my  powers,  with  all  their  might 
In  thy  sole  glory  may  unite. 

Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow : 
Praise  Him,  all  creatures  here  below ; 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  angelic  host, 
Praise  Father,  Son  and  Holy  Ghost. 


KEN'S  EVENING  HYMN 

ORIGINAL  TEXT  OF    1697. 

Glory  to  Thee,  my  God,  this  night 
For  all  the  blessings  of  the  light ; 
Keep  me,  oh  keep  me.  King  of  kings, 
Under  thine  own  Almighty  wings. 

Forgive  me,  Lord,  for  thy  dear  Son, 
The  ills  that  I  this  day  have  done. 
That  with  the  world,  myself,  and  thee, 
I,  ere  I  sleep,  at  peace  may  be. 

Teach  me  to  live,  that  I'  may  dread 
The  grave  as  little  as  my  bed ; 
Teach  me  to  die,  that  so  I  may 
Triumphing  rise  at  the  last  day. 

Oh  may  my  soul  on  thee  repose, 
And  may  sweet  sleep  mine  eyelids  close, 
Sleep  that  shall  me  more  vigorous  make 
To  serve  mv  God  when  I  awake. 


THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS.  23 

When  in  the  night  I  sleepless  lie, 
My  soul  with  heavenly  thoughts  supply ; 
Let  no  ill  dreams  disturb  my  rest, 
No  powers  of  darkness  me  molest. 

Dull  sleep,  of  sense  me  to  deprive ! 
I  am  but  half  my  days  alive  ; 
Thy  faithful  lovers,  Lord,  are  grieved 
To  lie  so  long  of  thee  bereaved. 

But  though  sleep  o'er  my  frailty  reigns, 
Let  it  not  hold  me  long  in  chains. 
And  now  and  then  let  loose  my  heart, 
Till  it  a  hallelujah  dart. 

The  faster  sleep  the  sense  does  bind, 
The  more  unfettered  is  the  mind, 
Oh  may  my  soul,  from  matter  free, 
Thy  unveiled  goodness  waking  see. 

Oh  when  shall  I,  in  endless  day. 

For  ever  chase  dark  sleep  away, 

And  endless  praise  with  the  heavenly  choir 

Incessant  sing,  and  never  tire  ? 

You,  my  blest  guardian,  whilst  I  sleep, 
Close  to  my  bed  your  vigils  keep. 
Divine  love  into  me  instil, 
Stop  all  the  avenues  of  ill. 

Thought  to  thought  with  my  soul  converse, 
Celestial  joys  to  me  rehearse. 
And  in  my  stead  all  the  night  long. 
Sing  to  my  God  a  grateful  song. 

Praise  God  from  whom  all  blessings  flow : 
Praise  Him  all  creatures  here  below : 
Praise  Him  above,  ye  angelic  host : 
Praise  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost. 


24  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

''ROCK  OF  AGES r 

The  hymn  beginning, 

"  Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me," 
may  well  be  esteemed  one  of   the  brightest   gems   of 
Christian  psalmody.     It  holds  a  place  in  the  affections 
of  the  church,  second,  perhaps,  only  to  Charles  Wesley's 
deep  spiritual  petition, 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul." 

It  is  a  grand  tone  that  nerves  and  strengthens  faith,  that 
associates  the  sublime  imagery  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures 
with  the  all-protecting  love  of  Christ,  and  that  has  con- 
soled thousands  of  Christians  in  the  dying  hour.  The 
late  Prince  Consort  repeated  the  first  stanza  on  his  bed  of 
death,  and  found  in  it  the  perfect  interpretation  of  the 
sentiment  of  his  hopeful  Christian  experience. 

Augustus  Montague  Toplady,  the  author,  was  born  at 
Farnham,  Surrey,  England  in  1740.  His  father  fell  at 
the  battle  of  Carthagena,  and  he  was  brought  up  in 
charge  of  an  exemplary  and  pious  mother.  He  was 
educated  at  Westminster  school. 

At  the  age  of  sixteen,  Toplady  chanced  to  go  into  a 
barn  at  an  obscure  place,  called  Codymain,  Ireland,  to 
hear  an  illiterate  layman  preach.  The  sermon  made  up- 
on him  an  unexpected  impression  and  led  to  his  imme- 
diate conversion.  He  thus  speaks  of  this  interesting 
experience  in  his  diary  :  "  That  sweet  text,  '  Ye  who  some- 
time were  afar  off  are  made  nigh  by  the  blood  of  Christ.' 
was  particularly  delightful  and  refreshing  to  my  soul. 
It  was  from  that  passage  that  Mr.  Morris  preached  on  the 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  25 

memorable  evening  of  my  effectual  call  by  the  grace  of 
God,  under  the  ministry  of  that  dear  messenger,  under  . 
that  sermon,  I  was,  I  trust,  brought  nigh  by  the  blood  of 
Christ,  in  August,  1756. 

"  Strange  that  I,  who  had  so  long  been  under  the  means 
of  grace  in  England,  should  be  brought  nigh  to  God  in 
an  obscure  part  of  Ireland,  amidst  a  handful  of  God's 
people  met  together  in  a  barn,  and  under  the  ministry 
of  one  who  could  scarcely  spell  his  name.  The  excel- 
lency of  such  power  must  be  of  God  and  cannot  be  of 
men." 

He  became  a  minister  of  the  church  of  England, 
maintained  the  Calvinistic  doctrines  in  opposition  to  the 
Wesleys,  and  preached  and  wrote  with  self-consuming 
zeal.  The  only  blemish  of  his  high  character  was  heated 
language  and  intolerance  in  controversy. 

In  the  year  1775  his  health  began  to  fail.  It  was 
evident  that  the  sword  was  too  sharp  for  the  scabbard. 
His  physical  energies  were  being  destroyed  by  the  fiery 
ardor  of  soul  that  over-taxed  them.  His  physician  com- 
manded him  to  go  to  London.  Here  a  new  field  opened 
before  him,  and  he  became  pastor  of  the  French  Calvinist 
Reformed  Church. 

On  the  year  of  his  settlement  in  London,  he  published 
in  the  Gospel  Magazine  (March,  i  j'jG)  an  article,  entitled 
"  Questions  and  Answers  Relative  to  the  National  Debt," 
in  which  he  adverts  to  the  debt  of  sin,  and  shows  how 
multitudinous  are  the  sins  of  mankind.  By  numerical 
calculations,  he  exhibits  the  enormity  of  the  debt  of  the 
redeemed  soul,  which  Christ  has  cancelled,  and  impresses 

story  of  Hymn*.  3 


26  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

the  reader  with  the  transcendent  love  and  value  of  Christ's 
atonement.  With  these  thoughts  glowing  like  a  vision 
in  his  mind,  he  then  added : 

Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me. 

Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee ; 

Let  the  water  and  the  blood, 

From  thy  riven  side  which  flowed. 

Be  of  sin  the  double  cure, 

Cleanse  me  from  its  guilt  and  power. 

Not  the  labor  of  my  hands 
Can  fulfil  thy  law's  demands  ; 
Could  my  zeal  no  respite  know, 
Could  my  tears  for  ever  flow. 
All  for  sin  could  not  atone, 
Thou  must  save,  and  thou  alone. 

Nothing  in  my  hand  I  bring, 
Simply  to  thy  cross  I  cling ; 
Naked,  come  to  thee  for  dress, 
Helpless,  look  to  thee  for  grace  ; 
Foul,  I  to  the  fountain  fly  ; 
Wash  me.  Saviour,  or  I  die. 

Whilst  I  draw  this  fleeting  breath. 
When  my  eyestrings  break  in  death ; 
When  I  soar  through  tracts  unknown, 
See  thee  on  thy  judgment  throne, 
Rock  of  ages,  cleft  for  me. 
Let  me  hide  myself  in  thee. 

The  above  is  the  original  version,  from  which  it  will 
be  seen  that  the  hymn  in  common  use  has  been  greatly 
transposed  and  altered. 

It  was  composed  in  Toplady's  last  years,  when  he 
already  felt  that  he  was  beginning  to  lose  his  hold  on 


TOA'^ES  IN  THE  CHURCH. 


*r 


lite,  and  that  his  feet  were  already  standing  on  celestial 
altitudes.  Some  two  years  afterwards,  when  he  was  yet 
but  thirty-eight  years  of  age,  the  full  time  of  his  depart- 
ure came,  and  he  found  the  prayer  in  the  last  stanza  of 
his  hymn  fully  and  sweetly  answered  in  the  revelation  of 
Divine  love  to  his  soul.  He  seemed  to  walk  in  Beulah» 
to  breathe  immortal  airs  and  to  hear  the  tuning  of  un- 
seen harps,  and  by  faith  to  discover  what  the  Protomar- 
tyr  saw  and  the  Revelator  described. 

"  Your  pulse,"  said  the  doctor,  "  is  becoming  weaker." 

"  That  is  a  good  sign,"  said  Toplady,  "  that  my  death 
is  fast  approaching,  and  I  can  add  that  my  heart  beats 
every  day  stronger  and  stronger  for  glory." 

As  his  end  drew  immediately  near,  tears  of  joy  filled 
his  eyes,  before  which  already  seemed  to  pass  visions  of 
Paradise,  and  he  exclaimed  :  "  It  will  not  be  long  before 
God  takes  me,  for  no  mortal  can  live  after  the  glories 
God  has  manifested  to  my  soul." 

The  following  hymn,  which  furnishes  a  picture  of  his 
religious  consolations,  confidence  and  hope,  was  written 
during  one  of  these  periods  of  illness,  that  gradually 
wasted  his  strength,  and  brought  him  constantly  in  face 
with  death  and  the  eternal  world  : 

When  languor  and  disease  invade 

This  trembling  house  of  clay, 
'T  is  sweet  to  look  beyond  my  pains, 

And  long  to  fly  away ; 

Sweet  to  look  inward,  and  attend 

The  whispers  of  his  love  ; 
Sweet  to  look  upward,  to  the  place 

Where  Jesus  pleads  above  ; 


28  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Sweet  to  look  back,  and  see  my  name 
In  life's  fair  book  set  down ; 

Sweet  to  look  forward,  and  behold 
Eternal  joys  my  own  ; 

Sweet  to  reflect  how  grace  divine 

My  sins  on  Jesus  laid ; 
Sweet  to  remember  that  his  blood 

My  debt  of  suffering  paid ; 

Sweet  to  rejoice  in  lively  hope, 
That,  when  my  change  shall  come, 

Angels  shall  hover  round  my  bed, 
And  waft  my  spirit  home. 

If  such  the  sweetness  of  the  stream, 
What  must  the  fountain  be, 

Where  saints  and  angels  draw  their  bliss 
Directly,  Lord,  from  thee. 


The  following  Latin  version  of  Rock  of  Ages,  is  by 
Rt  Hon.  W.  E.  Gladstone : 

Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus, 
Condar  intra  tuum  latus ; 
Tu  per  lympham  profluentem, 
Tu  per  sanguinem  tepentem, 
In  peccata  mi  redunda, 
Tolle  culpam,  sordes  munda  ! 

Coram  Te  nee  Justus  forem 
Quamvis  tota  vi  laborem. 
Nee  si  fide  nunquam  cesso, 
Fletu  stillans  indefesso ; 
Tibi  soli  tantum  munus — 
Salva  me,  Salvator  Unus  ? 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  29 

Nil  in  manu  mecum  fero, 

Sed  me  versus  crucem  gero: 

Vestimenta  nudus  oro, 

Opem  debilis  imploro, 

Fontem  Christ:  quxro  immundus, 

Nisi  laves,  moribundus. 

Dum  hos  artus  vita  regit, 
Quando  nox  sepulcro  tegit; 
Mortuos  quum  stare  jubes, 
Sedens  Judex  inter  nubes ; — 
Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus, 
Condar  intra  tuum  latus  ! 


The  following   hymn,  by  Toplady,  is  not  found  in 
many  of  the  standard  hymn-books : 

FULL  ASSURANCE. 
A  DEBTOR  to  mercy  alone, 

Of  covenant  mercy  I  sing. 
Nor  fear,  with  thy  righteousness  on, 

My  person  and  offering  to  bring. 

The  terrors  of  law  and  of  God 

With  me  can  have  nothing  to  do. 
My  Saviour's  obedience  and  blood 

Hide  all  my  transgressions  from  view. 

The  work  which  his  goodness  began, 
The  arm  of  his  strength  will  complete; 

His  promise  is  yea  and  amen. 
And  never  was  forfeited  yet. 

Things  future,  nor  things  that  are  now, 

Nor  all  things  below  nor  above, 
Can  make  him  his  purpose  forego, 

Or  sever  my  soul  from  his  love. 
3* 


30  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

My  name  from  the  palms  of  his  hands 

Eternity  cannot  erase, 
Impressed  on  his  heart  it  remains, 

In  marks  of  indeHble  grace. 

Yes,  I  to  the  end  shall  endure, 
As  sure  as  the  earnest  is  given ; 

More  happy,  but  not  more  secure, 
The  glorified  spirits  in  heaven. 


''GUIDE  ME,  O  THOU  GREAT  JEHOVAH:' 

The  much-used  hymn,  beginning, 

"  Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Jehovah  !" 

is  attributed  to  OHvers  in  nearly  all  American  collections 
of  hymns.  We  find  it  so  credited  in  some  of  the  more 
careful  compilations,  among  them,  "  Hymns  for  the 
Church  Militant."  It  was  written  by  William  Williams, 
a  Welsh  preacher  in  the  Welsh  Calvinist-Methodist  con- 
nection, in  the  times  of  Whitefield  and  Lady  Hunting- 
don. Olivers,  who  was  a  musician  as  well  as  a  poet,  and 
himself  a  Welshman,  supplied  the  music,  and  so  his  name 
became  accidentally  associated  with  the  authorship  of  the 
hymn. 

William  Williams,  or  Williams  of  Pantycelyn,  who 
has  been  called  the  Watts  of  Wales,  was  born  in  1717, 
in  the  parish  of  Llanfair-ar-y-bryn,  in  Carmarthenshire. 

His  conversion  forms  an  interesting  part  of  his  stu- 
dent-history. He  was  awakened  to  the  importance  of 
personal  religion  while  listening  to  the  words  of  the  once 
famous  preacher,  Howe)  Harris,  in  Talgarth  churchyard. 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  31 

His  experience  was  a  clear  one,  and  the  duty  of  becom- 
ing a  preacher  was  made  plain  to  him.  He  received 
deacon's  orders  at  the  age  of  twenty-three.  At  the  age 
of  thirty-two  he  left  the  Established  Church  and  became 
an  itinerant  Methodist  preacher. 

He  possessed  the  warm  heart  and  glowing  imagina- 
tion of  a  true  Welshman,  and  his  sermons  abounded 
with  vivid  picturing,  and,  always  radiant  with  the  pres- 
ence of  his  Divine  Master,  they  produced  an  extraordi- 
nary effect  on  susceptible  Welshmen. 

Working  in  connection  with  such  zealous  ministers 
as  Harris  and  Rowlands,  he  became  a  very  popular 
preacher,  and  his  local  fame  greatly  increased  when  to 
Welsh  eloquence  he  added  the  choicest  gifts  of  song, 
and  began  to  publish  his  highly  experimental  hymns. 
The  inspiring  words  of 

"  O'er  the  gloomy  hills  of  darkness," 

were  written  long  before  the  beginning  of  foreign  mis- 
sionary enterprises,  while  Williams,  its  popular  author,  was 
yet  traversing  the  lonely  mountains  of  Wales,  and  look- 
ing for  the  dawn  of  a  brighter  religious  day.  Welshmen 
sung  the  hymn  as  a  prophecy,  and  felt  their  hearts  glad- 
dened with  hope,  years  and  years  before  the  church 
begun  her  aggressive  march  into  pagan  and  heathen 
lands. 

His  first  Welsh  hymn-book  was  entitled  the  "Alle- 
luia," and  was  printed  in  Bristol  in  six  parts  in  1745-47. 
His  second  book  was  called  "  The  Sea  of  Glass,"  and  the 
third,  "Visible  Farewell;  Welcome  to  Invisible  Things." 


32  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

In  1 77 1  he  wrote  an  elegy  on  Whitefield,  which  he  dedi- 
cated to  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon.  He  died  in  1791. 
It  is  probable  that  the  famous  hymn,  beginning, 
"  Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Jehovah,"  was  sung  in  Ameri- 
ca before- it  obtained  a  European  reputation.  Its  history 
is  as  follows :  Lady  Huntingdon  having  read  one  of  Will- 
iams' books  with  much  spiritual  satisfaction,  persuaded 
him  to  prepare  a  collection  of  hymns,  to  be  called  the 
"  Gloria  in  Excelsis,"  for  especial  use  in  Mr.  Whitefield's 
Orphans'  House  in  America.  In  this  collection  appear- 
ed the  original  stanzas  of  "  Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Je- 
hovah." In  1774,  two  years  after  its  publication  in  the 
"  Gloria  in  Excelsis,"  it  was  republished  in  England  in 
Mr.  Whitefield's  collections  of  hymns.  Its  rendering 
from  the  Welsh  into  English  is  attributed  to  W.  Evans, 
who  gives  a  rendering  similar  to  that  found  in  the  pres- 
ent collections  of  hymns.  The  hymn  was  taken  up  by 
the  Calvinist-Methodists,  embodying  as  it  did  a  metrical 
prayer  for  God's  overcoming  strength  and  victorious  de- 
liverance in  life's  hours  of  discipline  and  trial,  expressed 
in  truly  majestic  language,  in  harmony  with  a  firm  reli- 
gious reliance  and  trust,  and  a  lofty  experimental  faith. 
It  immediately  became  populrr  among  all  denominations 
of  Christians,  holding  a  place  in  the  affections  of  the 
church  with  Robinson's  "  Come,  thou  Fount  of  every 
blessing."  (It  is  now  usually  sung  to  "Greenville,"  the 
music  of  which  is  nearly  identical  with  Rousseau's 
"  Dream,"  and  which  was  composed  by  Rousseau.  Its 
original  music,  as  we  have  said,  was  written  by  Thomas 
Olivers. 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  33 

The  original  hymn  had  four  stanzas,  and  was  some- 
what stronger  in  the  choice  of  words  than  the  present 
popular  verses.     It  was  as  follows : 

Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Jehovah, 

Pilgrim  through  this  barren  land : 
I  am  weak,  but  thou  art  mighty, 

Hold  me  by  thy  powerful  hand ; 
Bread  of  heaven, 

Feed  me  till  I  want  no  more. 

Open  now  the  crystal  fountain. 
Whence  the  healing  streams  do  flow ; 

Let  the  fiery,  cloudy  pillar 

Guide  me  all  my  journey  through  ; 

Strong  Deliverer, 
Be  thou  still  my  strength  and  shield. 

When  I  tread  the  verge  of  Jordan, 

Bid  my  anxious  fears  subside  ; 
Death  of  death,  and  hell's  destruction. 

Land  me  safe  on  Canaan's  side. 
Songs  of  praises 

I  will  ever  give  to  thee. 

Musing  on  my  habitation, 

Musing  on  my  heavenly  home, 
Fills  my  heart  with  holy  longing ; 

Come,  Lord  Jesus,  quickly  come. 
Vanity  is  all  I  see. 

Lord,  I  long  to  be  with  thee. 

Most  versions  read  in  the  second  line  of  the  second 
stanza,  "Whence  the  crystal  waters  flow,"  which  pre- 
sents to  the  mind  a  picture  inferior  to  the  original.  In 
the  third  stanza  the  third  line  usually  reads,  "  Bear  me 
through  the  swelling  current,"  which  is  also  an  inferior 


34  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

picture  for  the  singer,  whatever  it  may  be  to  the  rhetori- 
cian. The  last  stanza  is  fervent,  confident,  and  strong, 
lifting  the  soul  on  the  wings  of  aspiration  and  faith,  and 
it  seems  rather  remarkable  that  it  should  be  so  com- 
monly omitted. 

% 

''LORD  OF  THE  SABBATH,  HEAR  OUR  VOIVS:' 

When  Dr.  Doddridge,  during  his  useful  ministry,  had 
finished  the  preparation  of  a  pulpit  discourse  that  strong- 
ly impressed  him,  he  was  accustomed,  while  his  heart 
was  yet  glowing  with  the  sentiment  that  had  inspired 
him,  to  put  the  principal  thoughts  into  metre,  and  use 
the  hymn  thus  written  at  the  conclusion  of  the  preach- 
ing of  the  sermon.  At  the  close  of  a  discourse  preached 
in  Jan.  2,  1736,  from  the  text,  "There  remaineth  there- 
fore a  rest  to  the  people  of  God,"  he  read  the  beautiful 
hymn,  containing  the  following  almost  unequalled  stan- 
zas: 

Thine  eirthly  Sabbaths,  Lord,  we  love, 

But  there's  a  nobler  rest  above  ; 

To  that  our  laboring  souls  aspire, 

With  ardent  hope  and  strong  desire. 

No  more  fatigue,  no  more  distress, 
Nor  sin  nor  hell  shall  reach  the  place ; 
No  sighs  shall  mingle  with  the  songs 
Which  warble  from  immortal  tongues. 

No  rude  alarms  of  raging  foes  ; 
No  cares  to  break  the  long  repose  ; 
No  midnight  shade,  no  clouded  sun. 
But  sacred,  high,  eternal  noon. 


y^JBlEM)?  IE)®in)I®3EIII®(SrE,IQ)oIE). 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  35 

O  long-expected  day,  begin ; 
Dawn  on  these  realms  of  woe  and  sin : 
Fain  would  we  leave  this  weary  road, 
And  sleep  in  death,  to  rest  with  God. 

Dr.  Doddridge,  in  his  last  years,  seemed  to  have  a 
spiritual  foretaste  of  the  heavenly  joy  and  rest.  Em- 
barking for  Lisbon,  in  the  hope  of  benefit  from  warmer 
air,  he  was  able  to  say  to  his  wife  in  his  cabin,  when  con- 
scious that  his  life  was  almost  ended,  these  cheerful  and 
triumphant  words :  "  I  cannot  express  to  you  what  a 
morning  I  have  had.  Such  delightful  and  transporting 
views  of  the  heavenly  world  as  my  Father  is  now  indul- 
ging me  with,  no  words  can  express."  He  died  at  Lisbon 
of  consumption,  in  his  fiftieth  year.  He  anticipated  to 
the  last  the  glorious  rest  he  sings  in  his  hymn. 


''COME,   YE  SINNERS,  POOR  AND  NEEDY:' 
Few  hymns  for  the  last  hundred  years  have  been 
more  frequently  sung,  at  times  of  special  spiritual   re- 
freshing, than  that  beginning, 

"  Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy." 
It  was  written  under  the  inspiration  of  a  somewhat 
remarkable  religious  experience.  Joseph  Hart,  its  au- 
thor, was  bom  in  London  in  1712.  He  was  liberally 
educated,  and  commenced  life  as  a  teacher.  At  times, 
in  early  manhood,  he  was  deeply  interested  in  the  sub- 
ject of  religion,  and  led  a  restrained  and  prayerful  life. 
But  he  fell  a  victim  to  temptation,  engaged  in  many  evil 
practices,  and  gained  an  unenviable  notoriety  for  his  dis- 


36  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

regard  of  decency  and  religious  truth.  "  I  was,"  he  said, 
"  in  an  abominable  state,  a  loose  backslider,  and  an 
audacious  apostate."  He  published  heathen  translations 
of  a  pernicious  tendency,  and  a  skeptical  work,  entitled, 
"  The  Unreasonableness  of  Religion." 

His  conscious  errors  and  lapses  were  followed  by 
terrible  compunctions  of  conscience,  and  these  inward 
tortures,  which  gave  him  no  peace,  led  at  last  to  his  ref- 
ormation. He  now  began  in  earnest  to  seek  the  Saviour. 
After  a  period  of  great  mental  distress,  he  met  with  a 
change  of  heart,  and  experienced  an  abiding  sense  of  the 
pardoning  love  of  God.  This  happy  change  was  wrought 
by  his  receiving  a  profound  impression  of  the  sufferings 
of  Christ  He  says,  "The  week  before  Easter,  1757,  I 
had  such  an  amazing  view  of  the  agony  of  Christ  in  the 
garden  as  I  know  not  how  well  to  describe.  I  was  lost 
in  wonder  and  adoration,  and  the  impression  was  too 
deep,  I  believe,  ever  to  be  obliterated.  I  believe  that  no 
one  can  know  anything  of  the  sufferings  of  Jesus,  but  by 
the  Holy  Ghost."  Under  the  influence  of  this  experience 
he  composed  the  first  part  of  the  hymn  beginning, 
"  Come,  all  ye  chosen  saints  of  God." 

This  experience  he  has  very  vividly  impressed  upon 
his  well-known  hymn,  "  Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy." 

ORIGINAL. 

Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  wretched, 
Weak  and  wounded,  sick  and  sore  ; 

Jesus  ready  stands  to  save  you, 
Full  of  pity  joined  with  power ; 

He  is  able, 
He  is  willing ;  doubt  no  more. 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  37 

Come,  ye  needy,  come  and  welcome, 

God's  free  bounty  glorify  : 
True  belief  and  true  repentance, 

Every  grace  that  brings  you  nigh, 
Without  money, 

Come  to  Jesus  Christ  and  buy. 

Come,  ye  weary,  heavy-laden, 

Bruised  and  broken  by  the  fall, 
If  you  tarry  till  you  're  better, 

You  will  never  come  at  all : 
Not  the  righteous, 

Sinners  Jesus  came  to  call. 

View  him  grov'ling  in  the  garden  ; 

Lo,  your  Maker  prostrate  lies  ; 
On  the  bloody  tree  behold  him  ! 

Hear  him  cr}',  before  he  dies, 
"  It  is  finished  !" 

Sinners,  will  not  this  suffice  ? 

Lo  !  the  incarnate  God,  ascended, 

Pleads  the  merit  of  his  blood ; 
Venture  on  him — venture  wholly. 

Let  no  other  trust  intrude ; 
None  but  Jesus 

Can  do  helpless  sinners  good. 


"  BLEST  BE  THE  TIE  THA  T  BLNDSr 
Perhaps  the  best  poetical  expression  of  the  senti- 
ment of  Christian  brotherhood  in  the  English  language 
is  found  in  the  hymn  beginning, 

"  Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 

Our  hearts  in  Christian  love." 

John  Fawcett,  D.  D.,  the  author  of   this   hymn,  a 
name  that  finds  frequent  place  in  Baptist  collections  of 

4 


38  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

church  psalmody,  was  born  near  Bradford,  Yorkshire, 
January  6,  1739.  At  the  age  of  sixteen,  while  an  appren- 
tice, he  heard  Mr.  Whitefield  preach.  The  sermon  was 
instrumental  in  his  conversion,  and  he  joined  the  Meth- 
odist Society.  In  1758  he  became  a  member  of  the 
newly-formed  Baptist  church  in  Bradford.  Here  his 
activity  and  usefulness  were  so  great,  that  his  brethren 
advised  him  "to  go  beyond  private  exhortation,"  and  "to 
stand  forth  and  preach  the  gospel."  After  much  pray- 
ing and  many  inward  conflicts,  he  decided  to  follow  their 
advice.  In  the  summer  of  1765,  he  was  ordained  minis- 
ter of  the  Baptist  Society  at  Wainsgate.  His  work  here 
was  hard ;  but  his  zeal  and  far-reaching  sympathies  won 
the  hearts  of  his  people,  and  opened  the  way  of  pastoral 
success.  In  1772,  after  a  pastorate  of  seven  years,  in 
which  he  had  steadily  grown  in  the  attachment  of  a 
prosperous  society,  he  went  to  London  to  preach  for  Dr. 
Gill,  who  was  about  resigning  his  ministerial  office  on 
account  of  his  age  and  infirmities.  Dr.  Gill's  people 
were  so  much  pleased  with  his  deportment  and  discour- 
ses, that  they  gave  him  a  call  to  become  their  pastor. 

His  church  in  Wainsgate  was  scattered  and  poor ; 
that  in  London  was  large,  with  ample  resources,  and 
presented  a  most  promising  field  for  a  man  with  grow- 
ing capacities.  His  goods  were  loaded  for  removal  to 
London,  and  his  parishioners  assembled  to  bid  him  a 
final  adieu.  An  affecting  scene  followed,  the  poor  peo- 
ple he  had  so  long  instructed  and  befriended  entreating 
him  with  tears  to  remain.  The  voice  of  love  prevailed  ; 
he  was  convinced  that  it  was  his  duty  to  remain  here, 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  39 

and  that  this  was  the  field  Providence  had  allotted 
him. 

•'  I  will  stay,"  he  said.  "  You  may  unpack  my  goods, 
and  we  will  live  for  the  Lord  lovingly  together." 

The  affectionate  expression  of  regard  on  the  part  of 
his  parishioners  made  a  deep  impression  upon  his  mind, 
and  inspired  him  to  pen  in  return,  under  an  impulse  of 
true  poetic  feeling,  his  well-known  hymn : 

Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds 

Our  hearts  in  Christian  love : 
The  fellowship  of  kindred  minds 

Is  like  to  that  above. 

Before  our  Father's  throne 

We  pour  our  ardent  prayers  : 
Our  fears,  our  hopes,  our  aims  are  one — 

Our  comforts  and  our  cares. 

We  share  our  mutual  woes ; 

Our  mutual  burdens  bear 
And  often  for  each  other  flows 

The  sympathizing  tear. 

When  we  asunder  part, 

It  gives  us  inward  pain; 
But  we  shall  still  be  joined  in  heart, 

And  hope  to  meet  again. 

This  glorious  hope  revives 

Our  courage  by  the  way: 
While  each  in  expectation  lives, 

And  longs  to  see  the  day. 

From  sorrow,  toil,  and  pain. 

And  sin  we  shall  be  free ; 
And  perfect  love  and  friendship  reign 

Through  all  etemitv. 


40  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Dr,  Fawcett  was  a  great  sufferer  towards  the  close  of 
his  life ;  but  he  seemed  to  dwell,  as  it  were,  on  the  con- 
fines of  a  better  world,  with  the  celestial  country  full  in 
view.  His  last  words  were,  "Come,  Lord  Jesus;  come 
quickly," 

''FROM  GREENLAND'S  ICY  MOUNTAINS:' 
The  origin  of  this  hymn  is  given  in  Bishop  Heber's 
memoirs,  and  retold  in  the  annotations  to  the  Hymnal. 
We  find  in  an  American  religious  magazine  a  somewhat 
elegant  version  of  the  incident,  which  is  as  follows: 

"  It  does  not  necessarily  take  a  lifetime  to  accom- 
plish immortality.  A  brave  act  done  in  a  moment,  a 
courageous  word  spoken  at  the  fitting  time,  a  few  lines 
which  can  be  written  on  a  sheet  of  note-paper,  may  give 
one  a  deathless  name.  Such  was  the  case  with  Reginald 
Heber,  known  far  and  wide,  wherever  the  Christian  reli- 
gion has  penetrated,  by  his  unequalled  missionary  hymn, 
'From  Greenland's  icy  mountains.'  These  lines,  so 
dear  to  every  heart,  so  certain  to  live,  while  a  benighted 
man  remains  to  whom  Christ's  story  has  not  yet  been 
wafted,  were  written  in  a  parlor,  with  conversation  going 
on  around  its  author,  and  in  a  few  minutes'  time. 

"  Reginald  Heber,  then  thirty-five  years  old,  was  vis- 
iting his  father-in-law.  Dr.  Shipley,  in  Wrexham,  having 
left  his  own  charge  at  Hodnet  a  short  time  in  order  to 
deliver  some  lectures  in  Dr.  Shipley's  church.  Half  a 
dozen  friends  were  gathered  in  the  little  rectory  parlor 
one  Saturday  afternoon,  when  Dr.  Shipley  turned  to 
Heber,  knowing  the  ease  with  which  he  composed,  and 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  41 

asked  him  if  he  could  not  write  some  missionary  lines 
for  his  church  to  sing  the  next  morning,  as  he  was  going 
to  preach  upon  the  subject  of  Missions.  This  was  not 
very  long  notice  to  give  to  a  man  to  achieve  the  distin- 
guishing work  of  his  life,  and  in  the  few  moments  which 
followed,  Heber  builded  better  than  he  knew.  Retiring 
to  a  corner  of  the  room,  he  wrote  three  verses  of  his 
hymn,  and  returning  read  them  to  his  companions,  only 
altering  the  one  word,  savage,  to  heathen  in  the  second 
verse. 

"'There,  there,'  said  Dr.  Shipley,  'that  will  do  very 
well.'  But  Heber,  replying  that  the  sense  was  not  quite 
complete,  retired  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  returned 
with  the  glorious  bugle-blast  of  the  fourth  verse  : 

'"Waft,  waft,  ye  winds,  His  story, 

And  you,  ye  waters,  roll, 
Till  like  a  sea  of  glory 

It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole ; 
Till  o'er  our  ransomed  nature 

The  Lamb,  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 

In  bliss  returns  to  reign.     Amen.' 

"  It  was  printed  that  evening,  and  sung  the  next 
morning  by  the  people  of  Wrexham  church." 

From  Greenland's  icy  mountains, 

From  India's  coral  strand, 
Where  Afric's  sunny  fountains 

Roll  down  their  golden  sand, 
From  many  an  ancient  river, 

From  many  a  palmy  plain, 
They  call  us  to  deliver 

Their  land  from  en-or's  chain.' 
4* 


t2  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

What  though  the  spicy  breezes 

Blow  soft  o'er  Java's  isle, 
Though  every  prospect  pleases, 

And  only  man  is  vile  ; 
In  vain,  with  lavish  kindness, 

The  gifts  of  God  are  strewn ; 
The  heathen,  in  his  blindness, 

Bows  down  to  wood  and  stone. 

Can  we,  whose  souls  are  lighted 

By  wisdom  from  on  high. 
Can  we  to  man  benighted 

The  lamp  of  life  deny  ? 
Salvation  !  O  salvation  ! 

The  joyful  sound  proclaim. 
Till  earth's  remotest  nation 

Has  learned  Messiah's  name. 

Waft,  waft,  ye  winds.  His  story. 

And  you,  ye  waters,  roll, 
Till,  like  a  sea  of  glory. 

It  spreads  from  pole  to  pole ; 
Till  o'er  our  ransomed  nature 

The  Lamb,  for  sinners  slain, 
Redeemer,  King,  Creator, 

In  bliss  returns  to  reisni. 


"MIGHTY  GOD,  WHILE  ANGELS  BLESS  THEEP 

Robert   Robinson,  the   author  of   the  well-known 
hymn  beginning, 

"  Come,  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing," 

was  a  man  of  genius  and  impressible  feelings,  but  was 
easily  influenced  by  the  force  of  association  or  circum- 
stance, an  instability  which  he  deeply  regretted  in  his 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  43 

declining  years.  He  was  by  turns  a  Methodist,  an  Inde- 
pendent, a  Baptist,  and  a  Socinian.  He  once  said  to  a 
lady  whom  he  chanced  to  hear  singing 

''  Come,  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing," 
in  a  stage-coach,  after  his  relapse  into  the  gloomy  specu- 
lations of  Socinianism,  "  Madam,  I  am  the  poor,  unhappy 
man  who  composed  that  hymn,  many  years  ago;  and  I 
would  give  a  thousand  worlds,  if  I  had  them,  to  enjoy 
the  feelings  I  had  then." 

The  early  Methodists  produced  a  number  of  hymns, 
which,  like  the  German  lyrics  written  during  the  thirty 
years'  war,  illustrate  the  majesty  of  faith.  Among  these 
are  John  Wesley's  itinerant  productions,  Charles  Wes- 
ley's famous  hymn  written  on  the  Land's  End,  Cornwall, 
and  Oliver's  "The  God  of  Abraham  praise." 

The  well-known  hymn  beginning, 

"  Mighty  God,  while  angels  bless  thee," 
belongs  to  the  same  class.     It  was  written  under  pecu- 
liar circumstances,  and  such  as  would  seem  to  be  little 
likely  to  inspire  so  noble  a  theme. 

"  It  was  composed,"  says  Dr.  Belcher,  "  for  the  use  of 
Benjamin  Williams,  deacon  of  the  Baptist  church  at 
Reading.  Benjamin  was  a  favorite  of  Robinson  when  a 
boy.  One  day  the  poet  took  the  boy  into  his  lap,  and 
under  the  influence  of  that  affectionate  feeling  which  a 
child's  love  inspires,  he  wrote : 

"  Mighty  God,  while  angels  bless  thee, 
May  an  infant  praise  thy  name  ? 
Lord  of  men  as  well  as  angels, 
Thou  art  every  creature's  therne." 


44  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

So  far  the  poet's  mind  se-ems  to  have  been  influenced  by 
the  child  he  was  holding.  But  a  warm  glow  of  religious 
feeling  was  awakened  within  him,  and  the  second  stanza 
was  one  of  remarkable  fervor  and  power : 

"  Lord  of  every  land  and  nation, 
Ancient  of  eternal  days, 
Sounded  through  the  whole  creation 
Be  thy  just  and  lawful  praise. 
Hallelujah!  Amen." 

After  completing  the  whole  hymn,  he  read  it  to  the 
child,  and  put  it  playfully  into  his  hand.  "  Well  do  we 
remember,"  says  Dr.  Belcher,  "the  deep  feeling  with 
which  Deacon  Williams  described  to  us  the  scene,  as  we 
sat  with  him  by  his  own  fireside." 

Such  was  the  happy  hour  of  domestic  peace  and 
affection  that  produced  one  of  the  most  majestic  strains 
in  the  language,  which  has  been  sung  in  all  Christian 
lands.  It  is  one  among  many  instances  on  record  in 
which  the  affectionate  confidence  of  childhood  has  awa- 
kened the  sweetest  inspiration  in  the  poet's  heart,  and 
the  most  harmonious  chords  of  his  lyre. 

The  hymn  as  altered  reads — 

"Mighty  God!  while  angels  bless  thee, 
May  a  sinner  praise  thy  name  ?" 


''FAR  FROM  THE  WORLDS 

Few  hymns  are  associated  with  sweeter  and  more 
elevated  religious  enjoyment  than  that  by  Cowper,  begin- 
ning. 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  45 

Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord,  I  flee, 

From  strife  and  tumult  far. 
From  scenes  where  Satan  wages  still 

His  most  successful  war. 

"  The  calm  retreat,  the  silent  shade, 
With  prayer  and  praise  agree, 
And  seem  by  thy  sweet  bounty  made 
For  those  who  follow  thee." 

The  occasion  of  the  writing  of  this  hymn  is  deeply 
interesting.  Cowper  had  just  recovered  from  a  pro- 
longed attack  of  melancholy,  in  which  his  sufferings  had 
been  so  extreme  that  he  had  attempted  to  take  his  own 
life.  The  storm  that  had  fallen  upon  him  had  broken 
his  friendships  and  divorced  his  heart  from  the  pleasures 
of  the  world.  Recovery  brought  with  it  a  strong  desire 
for  the  hopes  and  consolations  of  a  religious  life. 

During  the  latter  part  of  his  despondency,  he  had 
been  a  patient  of  good  Dr.  Cotton,  a  poet-philanthropist, 
some  of  whose  best  literary  productions  are  yet  to  be 
found  in  choice  collections  of  English  literature.  Under 
the  judicious  advice  of  this  most  excellent  man,  Cowper 
became  a  Christian,  and  began  to  lead  a  very  devout  life. 
The  soothing  and  controlling  influences  of  religion  has- 
tened his  recovery,  so  that  he  no  longer  needed  the 
restraints  of  the  Retreat,  and  Dr.  Cotton  advised  him  to 
leave  St.  Albans,  the  scene  of  his  sorrows,  and  take  lodg- 
ings in  some  quiet  country  town,  for  retirement. 

Cowper  went  to  Huntingdon,  a  place  associated  with 
his  best  hymns  and  his  most  interesting  religious  expe- 
riences. His  brother  accompanied  him  thither,  and  here 
left  him  among  strangers. 


46  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

As  soon  as  his  brother  had  departed,  the  poet  felt  the 
solitude  of  his  situation,  and  his  despondency  began  to 
return.  He  wandered  forth  into  the  fields  ;  it  was  a 
lovely  country,  and  his  spirits  began  to  revive  under  the 
influence  of  the  charming  rural  scenes.  His  heart  was 
drawn  out  towards  God.  Like  the  disciples  on  their  way 
to  Emmaus,  he  felt  the  sweetness  of  heavenly  compan- 
ionship ;  his  heart  burned  within  him,  and  he  longed  to 
find  a  secret  place  for  prayer.  He  at  last  came  upon  a 
secluded  place,  overhung  by  a  green  bank  and  shrub- 
bery, and  here  he  knelt  down  and  poured  out  his  soul  to 
God.  He  felt  a  renewed  sense  of  his  Saviour's  presence, 
and  had  the  sweet  assurance  that,  however  his  lot  might 
be  cast,  Providence  would  direct  him  aright. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath,  and  he  went  to  church 
for  the  first  time  since  his  recovery.  The  sanctuary 
seemed  new  to  him,  and  its  services  had  a  spiritual  mean- 
ing that  he  had  never  felt  before.  The  presence  of  God 
was  on  this  occasion  most  gloriously  revealed  to  him. 

Not  only  was  his  heart  changed  towards  God,  but 
towards  the  worshippers.  Observing  a  person  near  him 
devoutly  engaged  in  worship,  he  was  led  to  regard  him 
with  the  deepest  affection.  He  says,  "  While  he  [the 
stranger]  was  singing  psalms  I  looked  at  him,  and  ob- 
serving him  intent  on  this  holy  employment,  I  could  not 
help  saying  in  my  heart  with  much  emotion,  '  The  Lord 
bless  you  for  praising  him  whom  my  soul  loveth.' " 

After  church  he  immediately  went  to  the  solitary 
place  under  the  mossy  bank  where  he  had  found  so  much 
comfort  in  praying  on  the  day  before,  and  here  again  he 


TONES  JN  THE  CHURCH.  47 

enjoyed  very  remarkable  spiritual  refreshment  in  prayer. 
"  How,"  he  says,  in  referring  to  this  occasion,  "  how  shall 
I  express  what  the  Lord  did  for  me,  except  by  saying 
that  he  made  all  his  goodness  to  pass  before  me  ?  I 
seemed  to  speak  to  him  face  to  face,  as  a  man  conver- 
seth  with  his  friend.  I  could  say  indeed  with  Jacob, 
not  how  dreadful,  but  how  lovely  is  this  place." 

''GOD  MOVES  IN  A  MYSTERIOUS  IVAK" 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way, 

His  wonders  to  perform ; 
He  plants  his  footstep  in  the  sea, 

And  rides  upon  the  storm. 

Deep  in  unfathomable  mines 

Of  never-failing  skill, 
He  treasures  up  his  bright  designs, 

And  works  his  sovereign  will. 

Ye  fearful  saints,  fresh  courage  take ; 

The  clouds  ye  so  much  dread 
Are  big  with  mercy,  and  shall  break 

In  blessings  on  your  head. 

Judge  not  the  Lord  by  feeble  sense. 

But  trust  him  for  his  grace ; 
Behind  a  frowning  providence 

He  hides  a  smiling  face. 

His  purposes  will  ripen  fast, 

Unfolding  every  hour : 
The  bud  may  have  a  bitter  taste, 

But  sweet  will  be  the  flower. 

Blind  unbelief  is  sure  to  err. 

And  scan  his  work  in  vain : 
God  is  his  own  interpreter. 

And  he  will  make  it  plain. 


48  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

This  was  the  last  hymn  which  Cowper  contributed 
to  the  "  Olney  Collection,"  and  perhaps  the  finest  and 
most  impressive  that  he  ever  wrote.  It  was  composed 
just  before  his  second  attack  of  insanity;  the  shadow  of 
the  coming  eclipse  had  already  touched  his  mind.  It  is 
said  that  on  one  occasion  Cowper  had  determined  to  go 
to  a  particular  part  of  the  river  Ouse  and  drown  himself ; 
that  the  driver  of  the  post-chaise  missed  his  way,  and  that 
the  hymn  was  the  result  of  the  mental  reaction  that  fol- 
lowed this  evidence  of  providential  protection. 

Montgomery  says  of  the  hymn,  that  it  is  "rendered 
awfully  interesting  by  the  circumstances  under  which  it 
was  written — in  the  twilight  of  departing  reason." 

Though  this  was  the  last  of  Cowper's  Olney  Hymns, 
it  was  not  the  last  hymn  that  he  ever  wrote.  After  the 
publication  of  the  Olney  Hymns,  he  composed  the  hymn 

beginning, 

"  To  Jesus,  the  crown  of  my  hope." 

This  is  supposed  to  have  been  his  last,  written  as  it  was 
amid  the  departing  gleams  of  religious  comfort,  before 
despondency  and  a  sense  of  spiritual  orphanage  hope- 
lessly settled  upon  his  mind. 


''I  LOVE  TO  STEAL  AWHILE  AWAY:' 

We  read  that  holy  men  of  old  communed  with  God 
in  deserts  and  in  solitary  places,  and  that  the  Saviour 
himself  sought  the  quiet  retreats  of  nature  for  prayer. 
Many  poets,  among  them  Madame  Guyon  and  Cowper, 
have  sung  the  beauty  of  worshipping  God  in  places  of 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  49 

rural  retirement,  where  the  rocks  are  altars  and  the  birds 
are  choirs.     Madame  Guyon  herself  loved  to  pray  in  sol- 
itary places,  and  Cowper  but  gives  his  own  experience  at 
St.  Albans,  when  he  writes  the  hymn,  beginning, 
"  Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord,  I  flee." 

A  devotional  hymn,  found  only  in  old  hymn-books, 
called  "  The  Bower  of  Prayer,"  and  written  by  one  accus- 
tomed to  commune  with  God  in  the  forest,  amid  the 
"  ivy,  the  balsam,  the  wild  eglantine,"  begins, 

"  To  leave  my  dear  friends  and  witR  neighbors  to  part, 
And  go  from  my  own  home  afflicts  not  my  heart, 
Like  the  thought  of  absenting  myself  for  a  day 
From  that  blessed  retreat  where  I  've  chosen  to  pray. 

"  The  early  shrill  notes  of  the  loved  nightingale 
That  sung  in  the  bower  I  observed  as  my  bell, 
To  call  me  to  duty,  while  birds  in  the  air 
Sung  anthems  of  praise  as  I  went  forth  to  prayer." 

The  favorite  hymn  beginning, 

"  I  love  to  steal  awhile  away," 

was  written  under  the  promptings  of  a  love  of  devotion 
amid  rural  scenes,  and  the  inflow  of  a  happy  Christian 
experience.  Its  author  was  Mrs.  Phoebe  H.  Brown,  who 
was  born  in  Canaan,  N.  Y.,  in  1783.  It  appeared  in 
Nettleton's  "  Village  Hymns,"  in  1825.  The  authoress, 
a  devout  Christian  mother  in  humble  circumstances  in 
life,  was  accustomed  to  resort  to  a  solitary  place  in  a 
wood  or  grove,  toward  nightfall,  for  secret  prayer.  For 
this  she  was  severely  criticised  by  a  wealthy  neighbor, 
and  her  feelings  in  consequence  were  deeply  wounded. 

story  of  Hymns.  K 


50  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

It  was  a  relief  to  Mrs.  Brown  to  express  any  strong  emo- 
tional feeling  in  poetry,  and  she  made  this  trial  the  occa- 
sion of  writing  the  hymn  so  often  sung  to  the  music  of 
"Woodstock."  The  second  line  as  originally  written 
was,  "  Fram  children  and  from  care." 

I  LOVE  to  steal  awhile  away 

From  every  cumbering  care, 
And  spend  the  hours  of  setting  day 

In  humble,  grateful  prayer. 

I  love  in  solitude  to  shed 

The  penitential  tear, 
And  all  his  promises  to  plead, 

Where  none  but  God  can  hear. 

I  love  to  think  on  mercies  past. 

And  future  good  implore, 
And  all  my  cares  and  sorrows  cast 

On  him  whom  I  adore. 

I  love,  by  faith,  to  take  a  view 

Of  brighter  scenes  in  heaven  ; 
The  prospect  doth  my  strength  renew. 

While  here  by  tempests  driven. 

Thus,  when  life's  toilsome  day  is  o'er, 

May  its  departing  ray 
Be  calm  as  this  impressive  hour, 

And  lead  to  endless  day. 


"  WHEN  ALL  THY  MERCIES,  O  MY  GOD. 

When  all  thy  mercies,  O  my  God, 

My  rising  soul  surveys. 
Transported  with  the  view,  I  'm  lost 

In  wonder,  love  and  praise. 


TOxY£S  AY  THE  CHURCH.  51 

Oh,  how  can  words  with  equal  warmth 

The  gratitude  declare 
That  glows  within  my  ravished  heart  ? 

But  thou  canst  read  it  there. 

To  all  my  weak  complaints  and  cries 

Thy  mercy  lent  an  ear, 
Ere  yet  my  feeble  thoughts  had  learned 

To  form  themselves  in  prayer. 

When  in  the  slippery  paths  of  youth 

With  heedless  steps  I  ran, 
Thine  arm,  unseen,  conveyed  me  safe. 

And  led  me  up  to  man. 

Through  hidden  dangers,  toils,  and  deaths, 
.  It  gently  cleared  my  way ; 
And  through  the  pleasing  snares  of  vice. 
More  to  be  feared  than  they. 

Through  every  period  of  my  life 

Thy  goodness  I  '11  pursue ; 
And  after  death,  in  distant  worlds, 

The  pleasing  theme  renew. 

Through  all  eternity  to  thee 

A  grateful  song  1  '11  raise ; 
But  oh  !  eternity 's  too  short 

To  utter  all  thy  praise. 

The  original  poem  consists  of  thirteen  stanzas,  but 
the  part  quoted  constitutes  all  of  the  hymn  in  common 
use.     The  hymn  is  almost  universally  familiar. 

Addison  was  made  to  see  clearly  God's  providential 
care  in  his  own  life  and  experience.  This  hymn  was 
inspired  by  devotional  gratitude  for  his  providential 
escape  from  shipwreck  during  a  storm  off  the  coast  of 

CiCnoa.  appleton's  enoclopedia. 


52  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  O  THOU,  MY  SOUL,  FORGET  NO  MORE:' 

Most   of    our   readers   are   doubtless   familiar   with 

Krishnu-Pal's  hymn.     It  is  the  hymn  beginning, 

"  O  thou,  my  soul,  forget  no  more 
The  Friend  who  all  thy  sorrows  bore." 

But  many  of  them  may  not  know  the  author  as  the  first 
Hindoo  convert  to  Christianity. 

A  writer  in  a  Baptist  missionary  paper  thus  relates 
the  story  of  its  origin  :  Dr.  Carey  had  spent  six  years  of 
toil  in  India,  and  had  seen  no  results  from  his  labors. 
He  had  prayed,  and  studied,  and  waited  with  a  heavy  but 
not  with  a  despondent  heart.  At  length  the  Master 
granted  a  first  token  of  his  favor  and  blessing.  Krishna, 
while  engaged  in  his  work  as  a  carpenter,  fell  and  broke 
his  arm.  Mr.  Thomas,  Carey's  companion  and  fellow- 
laborer  in  the  mission,  was  called  to  set  the  broken  limb, 
end  after  his  work  as  a  surgeon  was  done,  he  most  fer- 
vently preached  the  gospel  to  the  assembled  crowd. 
The  unfortunate  carpenter  was  affected  even  to  tears, 
and  readily  accepted  an  invitation  to  call  on  the  mission- 
aries for  further  instruction.  The  truth  took  deep  hold 
on  his  heart.  He  told  the  story  he  had  heard  to  his 
wife  and  daughter ;  and  they,  too,  were  so  much  moved 
that  all  three  offered  themselves  as  candidates  for  baptism. 

While  the  question  of  their  reception  was  under  dis- 
cussion, on  the  22d  of  December,  1800,  Krishnu  and 
Goluk,  his  brother,  openly  renounced  their  caste  and  sat 
down  at  the  table  with  the  missionaries  to  eat  with  them. 
This  excited  great  surprise  among  the  natives.  The 
evening  of  the  same  day,  Krishnu,  his  wife  and  daugh- 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  53 

ter,  went  before  the  church,  told  the  process  by  which 
they  had  been  led  to  embrace  Christianity,  and  were 
received  for  baptism.  The  occasion  was  one  of  joyful 
interest.  It  was,  indeed,  too  full  of  delicious  excitement 
for  Mr.  Thomas  to  bear;  for  he  had  been  laboring  for 
some  seven  years  as  a  missionary,  and  now  looked  upon 
his  first  convert. 

When  it  was  reported  that  Krishnu  had  thrown  up 
his  caste  and  become  a  Christian,  the  wildest  excitement 
prevailed.  A  mob  of  two  thousand  persons  gathered 
around  his  house.  They  dragged  him  and  his  brother 
before  the  magistrate,  but  could  bring  no  deiinite  charge 
against  them.  They  were  released,  and  a  native  soldier 
placed  as  a  guard  at  Krishnu's  house.  When  they  saw 
what  a  wild  storm  their  profession  of  Christianity  had 
created,  the  two  women  faltered  and  wished  to  postpone 
their  baptism.  Goluk  did  the  same ;  and  Krishnu  was 
left  to  encounter  the  odium  and  withstand  the  storm 
alone.  He  was  baptized  in  the  Ganges.  The  Governor 
of  India,  a  number  of  Portuguese,  and  great  crowcfs  of 
Hindoos  and  Mohammedans  were  present  to  witness  the 
rite.  Dr.  Carey  walked  down  into  the  water  with  his 
eldest  son  on  one  side  of  him  and  Krishnu  on  the  other. 
Amid  the  profoundest  silence  he  explained  that  it  was 
not  the  water  of  the  sacred  river  that  could  wash  away 
sin,  but  the  blood  of  atonement ;  and  then  he  administer- 
ed the  sacred  rite  of  baptism  ;  breaking  down  the  wall  of 
separation  between  the  Englishman  and  the  Hindoo,  and 
making  them  brothers  in  Christ  Jesus.  All  hearts  were 
impressed ;  the  governor  wept ;  and  that  evening,  De- 

5* 


54  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

cember  28,  for  the  first  time  the   Lord's   Supper  was 
celebrated  in  Bengalee. 

Krishnu  was  the  first  of  a  long  line.  When  he  was 
baptized  he  was  about  thirty-six  years  old;  and  he  lived 
for  more  than  twenty  years  a  faithful  and  honored  disci- 
ple of  the  Lord.  He  became  an  ardent  student,  and 
wrote  and  compiled  tracts  that  were  eagerly  read  by  his 
countrymen.  He  also  wrote  a  number  of  hymns.  The 
one  we  often  sing  on  communion  occasions  was  transla- 
ted by  Dr.  Marshman.  He  died  with  cholera  in  1822, 
universally  lamented. 

O  THOU,  my  soul,  forget  no  more 
The  Friend  who  all  thy  sorrows  bore ; 
Let  every  idol  be  forgot ; 
But,  O  my  soul,  forget  him  not. 

Renounce  thy  works  and  ways,  with  grief, 
And  fly  to  this  divine  relief; 
Nor  him  forget,  who  left  his  throne, 
And  for  thy  life  gave  up  his  own. 

Eternal  truth  and  mercy  shine 

In  him,  and  he  himself  is  thine : 

And  canst  thou  then,  with  sin  beset. 

Such  charms,  such  matchless  charms  forget? 

Oh,  no  ;  till  life  itself  depart, 
His  name  shall  cheer  and  warm  my  heart ; 
And  lisping  this,  from  earth  I  '11  rise, 
And  join  the  chorus  of  the  skies. 


"JESUS,  MY  ALL,  TO  HEAVEN  HAS  CONE." 
About  the  year  1730  there  lived  in  Reading,  Eng- 
land, a  lad  by  the  name  of  John  Cennick.     He  had  a 
lively  fancv  and  a  warm  social  nature ;  he  made  friends 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  55 

easily,  and  did  not  always  choose  them  well,  and  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  too  much  influenced  by  idlers  who 
courted  his  affection.  The  age  of  fifteen  did  not  find 
him  a  promising  youth ;  he  was  fond  of  cards,  novels, 
and  stage-plays,  and,  but  for  his  warm,  susceptible  feel- 
ings, he  might  have  been  classed  among  the  profitless 
boys  of  the  town. 

But  he  was  not  happy.  His  conscience  was  ever  ill 
at  ease,  and,  as  he  grew  older,  he  found  himself  led 
hither  and  thither  by  the  mere  force  of  evil  associations 
and  habits,  while  his  desultory  life  lost  its  charms  for 
him.  Solitude  constantly  presented  to  his  mind  the 
gloomy  reflection  that  the  days  of  youth  were  swiftly 
passing,  that  manhood,  too,  must  soon  be  gone,  and  he 
must  die. 

One  day,  while  walking  the  streets  of  London  en- 
gaged in  serious  thought,  one  of  those  mental  reactions 
that  suddenly  arrest  a  gay  life,  took  away  all  his  relish 
for  worldly  pleasures.  To  use  his  own  language,  '"While 
walking  hastily  in  Cheapside,  the  hand  of  the  Lord 
touched  me,  and  I  at  once  felt  an  uncommon  fear  and 
dejection."  He  had  often  retired  to  rest  with  a  tortured 
conscience,  but  he  had  never  before  known  a  depression 
of  spirit  like  that.  He  saw  that  he  was  a  sinner,  that 
his  course  was  leading  to  ruin,  and  that  one  day  he 
.would  suffer  the  penalties  of  his  disregard  of  the  require- 
ments of  God.  He  looked  upon  the  past  with  regret 
and  the  future  opened  to  him  no  cheering  prospect. 

This  anxious  concern  continued  two  years.  He  daily 
longed  for  the  peace  that  religion  imparts,  and  sought 


S6  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

for  it  by  reforming  his  conduct,  and  by  practising  self- 
denial  and  austerities,  but  he  did  not  seek  it  in  the  love 
and  compassion  of  Christ.  He  often  fasted  till  his 
strength  was  reduced ;  he  prayed  unceasingly,  regarding 
prayer  in  the  light  of  penance,  as  an  act  that  would  pur- 
chase pardon,  but  the  unrest  still  remained.  He  had  no 
peace,  the  great  conflict  went  on  in  his  soul. 

One  day,  while  thus  sorely  tried,  and  brought  almost 
to  the  verge  of  despair,  he  met  with  the  words,  "  I  am 
THY  SALVATION."  The  text  was  like  a  revelation  to  him. 
It  lifted  the  veil  that  had  long  darkened  his  mind,  and  he 
saw  the  way  of  peace  and  safety  by  casting  himself 
wholly  on  the  mercy  of  Christ.  His  mind  was  filled 
with  unspeakable  joy  on  believing  that  Jesus  would 
"take  him  to  Him"  as  he  was,  with  all  his  imperfec- 
tions, and  pardon  all  his  sin.  He  now  found  peace  to 
his  soul.  The  presence  of  the  Saviour  seemed  continu- 
ally with  him,  and  he  could  say,  as  he  afterwards  express- 
ed his  feelings  in  verse,  in  view  of  the  happy  change: 

"  Thou  dear  Redeemer,  dying  Lamb, 
I  love  to  hear  of  thee; 
No  sound  so  charming  as  thy  name, 
Nor  half  so  sweet  can  be." 

He  now  earnestly  entreated  his  young  associates  to 
turn  from  the  pursuit  of  worldly  folly  to  religion,  and 
the  constant  theme  of  his  conversation  was  "  peace  and 
pardon  through  the  blood  of  Christ." 

Cennick  became  a  Gospel  minister,  and  was  associ- 
ated with  the  Wesleys  and  Whitefield  in  their  labors. 
He    was   a   fervent-spirited  poet,  and   he   thus    told    in 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  57 

verse  the  experience  we  have  been  relating  ;  a  hymn  that 

all  our  readers  will  recognize,  though  comparatively  few 

may  have  known  the  circumstances  under  which  it  was 

written :  ^ 

"Jesus,  my  all,  to  heaven  Is  gone. 

He  whom  I  fix  my  hopes  upon. 

His  path  I  see,  and  I  'U  pursue 

The  narrow  way  till  Him  I  view. 

"  The  more  I  strove  against  his  power, 
I  felt  the  weight  and  guilt  the  more, 
TiU  late  I  heard  my  Saviour  say, 
Come  hither,  soul,  I  am  the  way. 

"  Lo,  glad  I  come,  and  thou,  blest  Lamb, 
Shalt  take  me  to  thee  as  I  am. 
Nothing  but  sin  I  thee  can  give, 
Nothing  but  love  shall  I  receive. 

"  Now  will  I  tell  to  sinners  round 
What  a  dear  Saviour  I  have  found. 
I  '11  point  to  thy  redeeming  blood. 
And  say,  Behold  the  way  to  god." 

He  thus  speaks  of  the  same  religious  experience  in 
one  of  his  poems  : 

"  Dangers  were  always  in  my  path, 
And  fears  of  death  and  endless  virrath. 
Though  every  day  I  wail  my  fall 
Three  years  of  grief  exceeded  all : 
No  rest  I  knew !  a  slave  of  sin, 
With  scarce  a  spark  of  hope  within."  -^ 

He  became  a  teacher  in  the  school  for  colliers'  chil- 
dren, which  Wesley  established  at  Kingswood.  In 
1745,  he  severed  his  connection  with  the  Methodists, 
and  joined  the  Moravian  Brethren.     He -died  at  an  early 


5 8  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS'. 

age  in  1755.  His  end  was  peace.  After  his  decease,  a 
poem  was  found  in  his  pocket,  written  in  anticipation  of 
the  final  summons,  entitled  "  Nunc  Dimittis."  The  fol- 
lowing stanza  will  show  the  spirit  of  resignation  in  which 
he  viewed  the  change  : 

"  O  Lamb,  I  languish 

Till  the  day  I  see 
When  thou  shalt  say, 

'  Come  up  and  be  with  Me  !' 
Twice  seven  years 

Have  I  thy  servant  been, 
Now  let  me  end 

My  service  and  my  sin."  ^ 


''FATHER,  WHATEFR  OF  EARTHLY  BLISS." 
The  most  unfortunate  people  are  sometimes  the  most 
useful.  Socrates  purblind,  Seneca  withered,  Milton  blind, 
Collins  and  Cowper  distressed  with  the  fear  of  insanity, 
Dr.  Johnson  carrying  with  him  physical  and  mental  in- 
firmity from  youth  to  age,  were  among  the  world's  bene- 
factors notwithstanding  these  obstacles  to  success.  From 
a  blighted  youth  and  life-long  misfortune  have  often 
sprung  works  of  benevolence  and  sympathy,  such  as 
only  could  result  from  the  discipline  of  trial. 

"  There  is  a  secret  in  the  ways  of  God 

With  his  own  children,  which  none  others  know, 
That  sweetens  all  he  does." 

In  nearly  every  collection  of  hymns,  and  especially 
in  collections  used  in  Baptist  churches,  the  name  of 
•Mrs.  Steele"  is  more  frequently  found  than  any  other 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  59 

female  writer.  The  address  "  Mrs."  is  usually  placed 
before  her  name,  though  the  lady  was  never  married. 
This  usage  is  common,  in  England,  with  maiden  ladies 
entitled  to  especial  respect,  and  it  has  been  retained  by 
American  compilers  of  devotional  poetry  and  hymns. 

She  was  the  daughter  of  Rev.  William  Steele,  an 
English  Baptist  minister  in  Hampshire.  She  united  with 
the  church  under  her  father's  care,  and  was  greatly  be- 
loved for  her  humility,  piety,  and  Christian  activities. 
She  was  a  great  sufferer,  and  from  a  life  of  severe  disci- 
pline grew  those  sweet  Christian  graces  which  find  ex- 
pression in  her  hymns. 

"  Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss 
Thy  sovereign  will  denies, 
Accepted  at  thy  throne  of  grace, 
Let  this  petition  rise  : 

"  Give  me  a  calm  and  thankful  heart, 
From  every  murmur  free, 
The  blessings  of  thy  love  impart, 
And  help  me  live  to  Thee." 

She  met  with  an  accident  in  childhood  which 
made  her  an  invalid  for  life.  She  was  also  engaged  to  be 
married  to  a  gentleman  whom  she  dearly  loved,  and  the 
preparations  were  fully  made  for  the  wedding.  At  the 
very  moment  when  she  was  expecting  the  bridegroom's 
arrival,  the  guests  being  already  in  part  assembled,  a 
messenger  came  with  the  news  that  he  had  just  been 
drowned.  Her  life,  now  doubly  blighted,  sought  only 
consolation  in  the  exercises  of  piety,  charity,  and  the 
inspirations   of  her  pen.     Her  father's    death  deepened 


6o  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

her  sorrows  in  her  helpless  situation,  and  weaned  her  heart 
from  the  vanishing  things  of  the  world.  But  she  bore 
her  lot  in  her  most  shadowed  hours  with  resignation, 
"looking  unto  Jesus."  Her  exit  was  serene  and  happy. 
Wrinkled  with  sorrow  and  worn  with  age,  she  at  last 
realized  a  full  answer   to    the   burden  of  her  life-long 

prayer : 

"  Let  the  sweet  hope  that  thou  art  mine 
My  life  and  death  attend ; 
Thy  presence  through  my  journey  shine, 
And  crown  my  journey's  end." 

Shortly  before  her  departure,  she  said  : 
"  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  Hveth." 

Her  life  was  told  in  that  hymn.  "  Earthly  bliss"  was 
denied  her,  but  she  had  a  "  calm  and  thankful  heart," 
God's  "presence"  shone  through  her  "journey,"  and 
crowned  the  "journey's  end." 


''JESUS,  AND  SHALL  LT  EVER  BE r 
This  hymn  was  written  by  a  pious  youth,  named 
Joseph  Grigg,  when  only  ten  years  old.  Little  is  known 
of  his  personal  history.  His  early  life  was  passed  in 
humble  circumstances.  Dr.  Joseph  Belcher  mentions 
that  he  continued  to  exercise  his  poetical  gifts,  so  early 
developed.  He  says :  "  About  half  a  century  ago,  we 
saw  a  small  pamphlet  -containing  nineteen  hymns,  writ- 
ten by  a  young  man  named  Grigg,  when  he  was  a  labor- 
ing mechanic."  His  early  piety  seems  to  have  had  a 
steady  growth  and  ripe  development.  He  became  a  Pres- 
byterian minister,  and  preached  for  a  time  in  the  Presby- 


TONES  IN  THE  CHURCH.  61 

terian  Chapel,  Silver  street,  London.  He  died  in  1768. 
The  following  lines  composed  on  his  death  by  Thomas 
Green,  a  local  poet,  show  that  his  memory  was  one  of 
those  that  "  smell  sweet  and  blossom  in  the  dust :" 

"  Death  has,  in  silence,  sealed  th'  instructive  tongue 
That  used  to  captivate  the  listening  throng ; 
No  more  he  stands  to  plead  a  Saviour's  name, 
And  these  cold  hearts  of  ours  with  love  inflame  ; 
No  more  he  shows  the  path  where  duty  lies, 
That  path  of  pleasure  leading  to  the  skies." 

Grigg's  hymn  beginning, 

"  Jesus,  and  shall  it  ever  be," 

discovers  remarkable  maturity  of  thought  for  a  youth 
of  ten  years.  It  not  unfavorably  compares  with  Milton's 
Psalm,  "  Let  us  with  a  gladsome  mind,"  written  at  the 
age  of  fifteen.  The  hymn  was  originally  published  in 
five  four-line  stanzas  in  the  Gospel  Magazine  for  April, 
1774,  under  the  title, 

"SHAME  OF  JESUS  CONQUERED  BY  LOVE, 

BY   A   YOUTH    OF   TEN   YEARS." 

It  was  sent  to  the  magazine  by  Rev.  Benjamin  Fran- 
cis, who  interested  himself  in  the  young  Author. 

Jesus,  and  shall  it  ever  be  ! 
A  mortal  man  ashamed  of  thee  ! 
Scorned  be  the  thought  by  rich  and  poor : 
O  may  I  scorn  it  more  and  more  ! 

Ashamed  of  Jesus  !  sooner  far 
Let  evening  blush  to  own  a  star. 
Ashamed  of  Jesus  !  just  as  soon 
Let  midnight  be  ashamed  of  noon. 
6 


62  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS, 

'T  is  evening  with  my  soul  till  He, 
That  Morning  Star  bids  darkness  flee  : 
He  sheds  the  beams  of  noon  Divine 
O'er  all  this  midnight  soul  of  mine. 

Ashamed  of  Jesus  !  shall  yon  field 
Blush  when  it  thinks  who  bid  it  yield  ? 
Yet  blush  I  must,  while  I  adore, 
I  blush  to  think  I  yield  no  more. 

Ashamed  of  Jesus  !  of  that  Friend 
On  whom  for  heaven  my  hopes  depend  ? 
It  must  not  be  !  be  this  my  shame, 
That  I  no  more  revere  his  Name. 

Ashamed  of  Jesus  !  yes  I  may ; 
*  When  I  've  no  crimes  to  wash  away ; 

No  tear  to  wipe,  no  joy  to  crave, 
No  fears  to  quell,  no  soul  to  save. 

Till  theUj  (nor  is  the  boasting  vain.) 
Till  then,  I  boast  a  Saviour  slain ; 
And  oh,  may  this  my  portion  be. 
That  Saviour  not  ashamed  of  me. 


«  VITAL  SPARK  OF  HE  A  VENLY  FLAME:' 
The  construction  of  this  funeral  anthem  and  chant  is 
very  pecuHar,  and  illustrates  how  thought  may  be  im- 
proved in  its  expression,  (i.)  The  heathen  emperor 
Adrian,  a  philosopher  as  well  as  a  ruler,  addressed  his 
soul  on  his  death-bed,  in  the  Latin  lines,  beginning, 

"Animula,  blandula,  vagula, 
Hospes  comcsque  corporis,"  etc. 

which  are  familiar  to  scholars  as  "  Adrian's  Address  to 
his  Soul  when  Dying,"  and  which  many  poets  have  trans- 


TONES  IN  J'HE  CHURCH.  d^ 

lated  into  English  verse.  (2.)  An  old  hymn  writer  by  the 
name  of  Flatman  wrote  a  Pindaric,  somewhat  similar 
to  "  Adrian's  Address,"  as  follows  : 

"  When  on  my  sick-bed  I  languish, 
Full  of  sorrow,  full  of  anguish. 
Fainting,  gasping,  trembling,  crying. 
Panting,  groaning,  speechless,  dying; 
Methinks  I  hear  some  gentle  spirit  say, 
'  Be  not  fearful,  come  away.' " 

(3.)  The  poet  Pope  combined  these  two  poems  with 
the  words  of  Divine  inspiration,  "  O  death,  where  is  thy 
sting  I  O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory .?"  thus  making  of 
the  whole  a  triumphant  Christian  anthem. 

Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame, 
Quit,  oh  quit  this  mortal  frame. 
Trembling,  hoping,  ling'ring,  flying. 
Oh  the  pain,  the  bliss  of  dying ! 
Cease,  fond  nature,  cease  thy  strife, 
And  let  me  languish  into  life. 

Hark !  they  whisper :  angels  say, 
"  Sister  spirit,  come  away  !" 
What  is  this  absorbs  me  quite. 
Steals  my  senses,  shuts  my  sight, 
Drowns  my  spirit,  draws  my  breath, 
Tell  me,  my  soul,  can  this  be  death  ? 

The  world  recedes  :  it  disappears  : 
Heaven  opens  on  my  eyes  ;  my  ears 

With  sounds  seraphic  ring. 
Lend,  lend  your  wings  !  I  mount !  I  fly  ! 
O  grave,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

O  death,  where  is  thy  sting  ? 


11.  HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL. 


1.  KING  ROBERT'S  HYMN. 

2.  GUSTA  VUS  ADOLPHUS'  HYMN. 

3.  ST.  FRANCIS  XA  VIER'S  HYMN. 

4.  THOMAS  A  KEMPIS'  HYMN. 

5.  SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH S  HYMN. 

6.  GEPHARDT'S  HYMN  OF  TRUST 

7.  KLOPSTOCK'S  HYMN. 

8.  SAMUEL  RUTHERFORD. 

9.  ADDISON S  TRA  VELLER'S  HYMN. 

10.  COUNT  ZINZENDORFS  HYMN. 

11.  LADY  HUNTINGDON S  HYMN 

12.  JOHN  WESLEY'S  ITINERANT  HYMN. 

13.  CHARLES  WESLEY'S  WATCH  NIGHT  HYMNS. 

14.  CHARLES  WESLEY'S  HYMN  IN  TIME  OF  TROUBLE. 

15.  LANG  HORN'S  "  IT  IS  TOLD  ME  I  MUST  DIE." 


6* 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL. 


KING  ROBERT  SECOND'S  HYMN. 

Come,  thou  Holy  Spirit,  come, 
And  from  thine  eternal  home 

Shed  the  ray  of  light  divine  ; 
Come,  thou  Father  of  the  poor, 
Come,  thou  source  of  all  our  store, 

Come,  within  our  bosoms  shine. 

Thou  of  Comforters  the  best. 

Thou  the  soul's  most  welcome  Guest, 

Sweet  Refreshment  here  below  ! 
In  our  labor  Rest  most  sweet, 
Grateful  Shadow  from  the  heat. 

Solace  in  the  midst  of  woe  ! 

Oh,  most  blessed  Light  Divine, 
Shine  within  these  hearts  of  thine, 

And  our  inmost  being  fill ; 
If  thou  take  thy  grace  away, 
Nothing  pure  in  man  will  stay. 

All  our  good  is  turned  to  ill.    , 

Heal  our  wounds  ;  our  strength  renew ; 
On  our  dryness  pour  thy  dew ; 

Wash  the  stains  of  guilt  away : 
Bend  the  stubborn  heart  and  will. 
Melt  the  frozen,  warm  the  chill, 

Guide  the  steps  that  go  astray. 


68  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS 

On  the  faithful,  who  adore 
And  confess  thee,  evermore 

In  thy  sevenfold  gifts  descend; 
Give  them  virtue's  sure  reward, 
Give  them  thy  salvation.  Lord, 

(}ive  thefn  joys  that  never  end.     Amen. 

Robert  II.  succeeded  Hugh  Capet  his  father,  upon 
the  throne  of  France,  about  the  year  997.  He  has  been 
called  the  gentlest  monarch  that  ever  sat  upon  a  throne, 
and  his  amiability  of  character  poorly  prepared  him  to 
cope  with  his  dangerous  and  wily  adversaries.  His  last 
years  were  embittered  by  the  opposition  of  his  own  sons, 
and  the  political  agitations  of  the  times.  He  died  at 
Melun  in  103 1,  and  was  buried  at  St.  Denis. 

Robert  joossessed  a  reflective  mind,  and  was  fond  of 
learning  and  musical  art.  He  was  both  a  poet  and  a 
musician.  He  was  deeply  religious,  and,  from  unselfish 
motives,  was  much  devoted  to  the  church.  He  was  inti- 
mate with  Fulbert  of  Chartres,  a  man  of  great  learning 
and  religious  zeal,  of  whom  Canute  and  other  princes 
sought  advice. 

The  king  and  Chartres  both  produced  hymns,  which 
are  still  used  in  the  English  church.  Robert's  hymn, 
"Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus,"  is  given  above.  He  himself 
was  a  chorister;  and  there  was  no  kingly  service  that 
he  seemed  to  love  so  well.  We  are  told  that  it  was  his 
custom  to  go  to  the  church  of  St.  Dennis,  and  in  his 
royal  robes,  with  his  crown  upon  his  head,  to  direct  the 
choir  at  matins  and  vespers,  and  join  in  the  singing. 
Few  kings  have  left  a  better  legacy  to   the  Christian 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  69 

church  than  his  own  hymn,  which,  after  nearly  a  thou- 
sand years,  is  still  a  tone  and  an  influence  in  the  world. 

"  St.  Fulbert  of  Chartres'  Hymn,"  which  is  found  in 
the  Church  of  Ens:land's  collection,  is  as  follows  • 


Ye  choirs  of  New  Jerusalem, 

Your  sweetest  notes  employ, 
The  Paschal  victory  to  hymn 

In  strains  of  holy  joy. 

For  Judah's  Lion  bursts  his  chains, 
Crushing  the  serpent's  head ; 

And  cries  aloud,  through  death's  domains 
To  wake  the  imprisoned  dead. 

Devouring  depths  of  hell  their  prey 

At  his  command  restore ; 
His  ransomed  hosts  pursue  their  way 

Where  Jesus  goes  before. 

Triumphant  in  his  glory  now, 

To  him  all  power  is  given ; 
To  him  in  one  communion  bow", 

All  saints  in  earth  and  heaven. 

While  we,  his  soldiers,  praise  our  King, 

His  mercy  we  implore, 
Within  his  palace  bright  to  bring 

And  keep  us  evermore. 

All  glory  to  the  Father  be  ; 

All  glory  to  the  Son ; 
All  glory.  Holy  Ghost,  to  thee, 

While  endless  ages  run. 


70  l^HE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 


HYMN  OF  GUSTAVUS  ADOLF HUS. 

Many  noble  hymns  were  produced  in  Germany  during 
the  Thirty  Years'  War,  but  that  composed  by  Altenburg, 
and  known  as  "  Gustavus'  Battle  Song,"  is  by  far  the 
most  majestic  strain  of  the  period.  "  As  we  read  the 
stirring  lines,  a  vision  rises  before  us  of  two  mighty 
hosts  encamped  over  against  each  other,  stilled  by  the 
awe  that  falls  on  brave  hearts  when  momentous  events 
are  about  to  be  decided.  The  thick  fogs  of  an  autumn 
morning  hide  the  foes  from  each  other;  only  the  shrill 
note  of  the  clarion  is  heard  piercing  through  the  mist. 
Then  suddenly  in  the  Swedish  camp  there  is  silence. 
With  a  solemn  mien  Gustavus  advances  to  a  front  rank 
of  his  troops,  and  kneels  down  in  the  presence  of  all  of 
his  followers.  In  a  moment  the  whole  army  bends  with 
him  in  prayer.  Then  there  bursts  forth  the  sound  of 
trumpets,  and  ten  thousand  voices  join  in  song  :" 

Fear  not,  O  little  flock,  the  foe 
Who  madly  seeks  your  overthrow, 

Dread  not  his  rage  and  power : 
What  though  your  courage  sometimes  faints, 
His  seeming  triumph  o'er  God's  saints 

Lasts  but  a  little  hour. 

Be  of  good  cheer,  your  cause  belongs 
To  Him  who  can  avenge  your  wrongs ; 

Leave  it  to  him,  our  Lord  : 
Though  hidden  yet  from  all  our  eyes, 
He  sees  the  Gideon  who  shall  rise 

To  save  us  and  his  word. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  ;i 

As  true  as  God's  own  word  is  true, 
Nor  earth  nor  hell  with  all  their  crew, 

Against  us  shall  prevail : 
A  jest  and  by-word  they  are  grown ; 
God  is  with  us,  we  are  his  own, 

Our  victory  cannot  fail. 

Amen,  Lord  Jesus,  grant  our  prayer ! 
Great  Captain,  now  thine  arm  make  bare, 

Fight  for  us  once  again  : 
So  shall  thy  saints  and  martyrs  raise 
A  mighty  chorus  to  thy  praise. 

World  without  end.     Amen. 

The  army  of  Gustavus  moved  forward  to  victory — an 
army  so  inspired  with  confidence  in  God  could  not  but 
be  victorious  ;  but  at  the  moment  of  triumph  a  riderless 
horse  came  flying  back  to  the  camp — it  was  that  of  the 
martyred  king. 

% 

ST.  FRANCIS  XA  VIER'S  HYMN. 

St.  Francis  Xavier's  hymn  has  been  pronounced, 

even  by  Protestant  writers,  one  of  the  "  most  profoundly 

and  loftily  spiritual"  of  Christian  lyrics,  because,  as  one 

expresses  the  leading  thought  of  the  composition,  "  it  is 

the  essence  of  disinterestedness."     The  following  is  the 

original : 

O  Deus,  ego  amo  Te. 
Nee  amo  Te,  ut  salves  mc, 
Aut  quia  non  amantes  Te 
./Eterno  punis  igne. 

Tu,  Tu,  mi  Jesu,  totum  me 
Amplexus  es  in  cruce ; 
Tulisti  clavos,  lanceam, 
Multamque  ignominiam, 


72  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Innumeros  dolores, 
Sudores,  et  angores, 
Ac  mortem;  et  haec  propter  me, 
Ac  pro  me  peccatore. 

Cur  igitur  non  amem  Te, 

0  Jesu  amantissime ! 
Non,  ut  in  coelo  salves  me, 
Aut  in  aeternum  damnes  me, 

Nee  prasmii  ullius  spe, 
Sed  sicut  Tu  amasti  me ; 
Sic  amo  et  amabo  Te, 
Solum,  quia  Rex  meus  es. 

The  hymn  i3iirports  to  be  a  revelation  of  the  writer's 
own  experience.  Francis  Xavier  was  born  of  a  noble 
family  in  Spain,  in  1506.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  he  en- 
tered the  University  of  Paris,  where  he  was  brought 
under  the  influence  of  Loyola,  the  celebrated  founder  of 
the  Order  of  Jesus.  He  renounced  all  worldly  ambitions 
and  aims,  became  a  missionary  to  China,  India,  and  other 
foreign  lands,  toiling  with  a  self-forgetful  ardor  and  a  self- 
consuming  zeal.     He  died  in  the  work,  in  China,  in  1552. 

My  God,  I  love  thee — not  because 

1  hope  for  heaven  thereby; 
Nor  yet  because  who  love  thee  not 

Must  burn  eternally. 

Thou,  O  my  Jesus,  thou  didst  me 

Upon  the  cross  embrace  ; 
For  me  didst  bear  the  nails  and  spear. 

And  manifold  disgrace, 

And  griefs  and  torments  numberless, 

And  sweat  of  agony. 
E'en  death  itself :  and  all  for  me 

Who  was  thine  enemy. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  73 

Then  why,  O  blessed  Jesus  Christ, 

Should  I  not  love  thee  well  ? 
Not  for  the  sake  of  winning  heaven. 

Nor  of  escaping  hell ; 

Not  with  the  hope  of  gaining  aught. 

Nor  seeking  a  reward. 
But  as  thyself  hast  loved  me. 

Oh,  ever-loving  Lord ! 

E'en  so  I  love  thee,  and  will  love, 

And  in  thy  praise  will  sing; 
Solely  because  thou  art  my  God, 

And  my  eternal  King. 


THOMAS  A  KEMPIS'  HYMN. 

The  life  of  Thomas  a  Kempis  was  a  long  solitude, 
and  the  known  facts  of  his  history  are  so  few  that  they 
are  easily  told.  He  was  born  in  1380,  in  a  village  near 
Cologne.  His  surname  was  Hammerlein,  or  little  Ham- 
mer, translated  by  the  word  Malleolus  in  Latin.  Called 
of  God  to  be  a  teacher  of  the  experiences  of  a  regenerate 
inner  life,  he  was  of  as  humble  birth  as  the  disciples  of 
Galilee.  "  He  was  brought  up,"  says  one  of  his  biogra- 
phers, "  in  poverty  and  hardship  ;  his  father  earned  his 
bread  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  ;  his  mother  assiduously 
watched  over  the  education  of  her  children  ;  she  was 
always  attentive  to  the  concerns  of  the  family,  abste- 
mious, silent,  and  extremely  modest." 

At  the  age  of  six  he  was  placed  in  one  of  the  houses 
belonging  to  the  "  Society  of  the  Brothers  and  Sisters  of 
Common  Life,"  founded  by  Gerard  de  Groote.     This  was 

story  of  HTmnj.  H 


74  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

a  practical  religious  order,  the  members  of  which  devoted 
themselves  to  the  instruction  of  youth,  and  to  the  culti- 
vation of  the  mechanic  arts.  The  whole  Society  had 
their  property  in  common,  but  the  members  made  no 
vow,  and  were  at  liberty  to  resign  their  places  at  their 
own  discretion.  It  was  in  one  of  the  schools  of  this  So- 
ciety that  Erasmus  received  his  early  education. 

The  particular  school  in  which  Thomas  a  Kempis 
entered,  was  in  the  town  of  Daventer,  in  West  Friesland, 
where  he  was  under  the  instruction  of  Florentius,  the 
immediate  successor  of  Gerard  de  Groote.  Florentius  re- 
ceived him  with  warm  affection  into  his  own  family,  and 
gave  him  many  valuable  books,  the  perusal  of  which  was 
the  chief  delight  of  his  boyhood.  "  Much  was  I  pleased,' 
says  a  Kempis,  "  with  the  devout  conversation,  the  irre- 
proachable manners,  and  the  humility  of  my  brethren. 
I  had  never  seen  such  piety  and  charity.  They  remained 
constantly  at  home,  employed  in  prayer  and  study,  or  in 
copying  useful  books,  and  sanctifying  this  occupation  by 
frequent  ejaculations  of  devotion." 

A  beautiful  anecdote  is  associated  with  his  student 
history,  which  illlustrates  his  elevated  piety.  His  pre- 
ceptor asked  a  class  of  which  he  was  a  member,  "  What 
passage  of  Scripture  conveys  the  sweetest  description  of 
heaven  .''"  One  answered,  "  There  shall  be  no  more 
sorrow."  Another,  "  There  shall  be  no  more  death." 
Another,  "They  shall  see  his  face."  But  Thomas  a 
Kempis,  who  was  the  youngest  of  all,  said,  "  And  his 
servants  shall  serve  Him." 

The  monks  and  the  religious  orders  at  this  period 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  75 

were  the  book-makers,  and  it  is  through  their  patient  toil 
that  the  best  hterary  treasures  of  the  past  come  down  to 
us.  The  youth  of  Thomas  a  Kempis  was  spent  in  copy- 
ing useful  books.  "To  transcribe  works  which  Jesus 
Christ  loves,  by  which  the  knowledge  of  him  is  diffused, 
is  a  most  worthy  employment.  If  he  shall  not  lose  his 
reward,  who  gives  a  cup  of  cold  water  to  a  thirsty  neigh- 
bor, what  will  not  be  the  reward  of  those,  who,  by  put- 
ting good  works  into  the  hands  of  their  neighbors,  open 
to  them  the  fountains  of  eternal  life.''  Blessed  are  the 
hands  of  the  transcribers  !"  Such  was  his  view  of  the 
sacredness  of  his  early  calling.  Not  only  the  classical 
literature  of  Greece  and  Rome,  but  the  precious  pages  of 
Holy  Writ  were  transmitted  from  generation  to  genera- 
tion by  these  useful  pens. 

At  the  age  of  nineteen,  Thomas  a  Kempis,  encour- 
aged to  pursue  the  course  by  his  preceptor  Florentius, 
resolved  to  enter  into  the  Order  of  the  Monks  of  St. 
Augustin.  "You  must  not  suppose,"  said  Florentius, 
"  that  a  monastic  life  can  be  one  of  idleness.  The  good 
man's  prayers  must  be  incessant ;  his  fasts  frequent ; 
his  sleep  short,  and  the  whole  of  his  spare  time  must  be 
given  to  manual  labor."  Upon  such  a  life  Thomas  a 
Kempis  entered  with  the  freshness  of  youth  yet  bloom- 
ing on  his  cheek. 

The  story  of  his  first  appearance  at  the  monastery  is 
a  pleasing  one.  It  was  at  the  town  of  Zwoll,  on  the  banks 
of  the  Vecht.  His  brother  John  a  Kempis,  whom  he 
had  not  seen  for  a  long  period,  was  the  prior.  At  the 
door  of  the  monastery  he  was  met  by  this  brother,  who 


76  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

was  deeply  affected  on  learning  his  purpose  to  become  a 
monk.  After  the  salutation,  the  two  brothers  lifted  up 
their  voices  in  devout  gratitude,  saying  : 

"  Behold  how  good 
And  how  pleasant  a  thing  it  is 
For  brethren  to  dwell  together  in  unity. 

"  It  is  like  precious  ointment  upon  the  head 
That  ran  down  upon  the  beard, 
Aaron's  beard, 
That  went  down  to  the  skirts  of  his  garments. 

"  As  the  dew  of  Hermon, 
As  the  dew  that  descended  upon  the  mountains  of  Zion, 
For  there  the  Lord  commanded  his  blessing, 
Even  life  evermore." 

From  the  time  of  his  vow  to  his  decease,  a  period  of 
sixty-six  years,  Thomas  a  Kempis  lived  in  the  monastery 
of  Zwoll.  His  spiritual  enjoyments  were  at  first  very 
great,  but  they  were  followed  by  deep  inward  conflicts 
which  are  described  in  his  "  Imitation  of  Christ."  "  By 
degrees,"  he  said,  "  I  was  weaned  from  everything  earth- 
ly and  adhered  to  God  alone.  Then  I  experienced  how 
sweet,  how  full  of  mercy  God  is  to  those  who  truly  love 
him."  Here  he  wrote  numerous  works,  among  them  the 
lives  of  his  preceptors.  He  acquired  a  reputation  for 
uncommon  sanctity,  and  it  is  said  that  when  he  sung  in 
his  divine  office  in  the  choir,  his  countenance  had  a  "  holy 
radiance  which  filled  the  spectators-  with  awe."  But  he 
was  very  humble,  and  always  refused  to  entertain  those 
who  would   do  him   honor,  unless   he  could  give  them 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL,  77 

spiritual  help.  "  I  must  leave  you,"  he  would  say  to  vis- 
itors ;  "  there  is  some  one  waiting  for  me  in  my  cell." 

Age  at  last  put  an  end  to  his  activities,  and  in  the 
long  calm  twilight  of  life,  he  awaited  the  coming  of  his 
Lord.  "I  have  sought  for  peace  everywhere,"  he  said 
in  old  age,  "  but  I  have  found  it  nowhere  except  in  a 
corner  with  a  little  book."  He  died  on  the  25th  of  July, 
1471,  in  the  92d  year  of  his  age. 

The  following  poem,  written  in  ripe  experience,  ex- 
presses his  anticipation  of  heaven  : 

HEAVENS  JOYS. 

High  the  angel  choirs  are  raising 

Heart  and  voice  in  harmony ; 
The  Creator  King  still  praising 

Whom  in  beauty  there  they  see. 

Sweetest  strains  from  soft  harps  stealing, 
Trumpets'  notes  of  triumph  pealing, 
Radiant  wings  and  white  stoles  gleaming 
Up  the  steps  of  glory  streaming ; 
Where  the  heavenly  bells  are  ringing; 
"  Holy !  holy  !  holy  !"  singing 

To  the  mighty  Trinity ! 
"  Holy  !  holy  !  holy  !"  crying ! 
For  all  earthly  care  and  sighing 

In  that  city  cease  to  be  ! 

Every  voice  is  there  harmonious, 
Praising  God  in  hymns  symphonious  ; 
Love  each  heart  with  light  unfolding, 
As  they  stand  in  peace  beholding 
There  the  Triune  Deity  ! 

17* 


7S  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Whom  adore  the  seraphim 

Aye  with  love  eternal  burning ; 

Venerate  the  cherubim 

To  their  font  of  honor  turning, 

While  angelic  thrones  adoring 
Gaze  upon  his  majesty. 

Oh  how  beautiful  that  region  ! 
Oh  how  fair  that  heavenly  legion  ! 

Human  souls  and  angels  blend. 
Glorious  will  that  city  be, 
Full  of  deep  tranquillity, 

Light  and  peace  from  end  to  end ! 
See  the  happy  dwellers  there 

Shine  in  robes  of  purity. 

Keep  the  laws  of  charity, 
Bound  in  firmest  unity  ; 
Labor  finds  them  not,  nor  care, 

Ignorance  can  ne'er  perplex, 

Nothing  tempt  them,   nothing  vex  ; 

Joy  and  health  their  fadeless  blessing' 

Always  all  good  things  possessing. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH-'S  HYMN. 

Few  of  the  hymns  of  the  Elizabethan  era  survive, 
though  the  Ambrosian  Midnight  Hymn,  "  Hark,  't  is  the 
Midnight  Cry,"  and  the  hymns  of  St.  Bernard,  and  Ber- 
nard of  Cluny,  are  still  tones  in  the  church,  and  the  reli- 
gious poetry  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  comes  down  to  us 
associated  with  the  history  of  his  brilliant,  though  sadly 
eclipsed  career.  The  following  poem  has  some  fine  lines 
in  the  quaint  English  style  of  the  period,  and  was  com- 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  79 

posed  by  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  during  his  first  imprison- 
ment : 

MY  PILGRIMAGE. 

Give  me  my  scallop-shell  of  quiet, 

My  staff  of  faith  to  walk  upon, 
My  scrip  of  joy — immortal  diet — 

My  bottle  of  salvation, 
My  gown  of  glory,  hope's  true  gage — 
And  thus  I  take  my  pilgrimage. 

No  cause  deferred,  no  vain-spent  journey, 
For  there  Christ  is  the  King's  attorney. 
Who  pleads  for  all  without  degrees, 
And  he  hath  angels,  but  no  fees. 
And  when  the  great  twelve  million  jury 
Of  our  sins  with  direful  fury 
'Gainst  our  souls  black  verdicts  give, 
Christ  pleads  his  death  and  then  we  live. 

Be  thou  my  speaker,  taintless  Pleader, 
Unblotted  lawyer,  true  Proceeder : 
Thou  giv'st  salvation  even  for  alms, 
Not  with  a  bribed  lawyer's  palms  ; 
And  this  is  my  eternal  plea. 
To  him  who  made  heaven,  earth  and  sea. 

Blood  must  be  my  body's  balmer. 
While  my  soul,  like  faithful  palmer, 
Travelleth  toward  the  land  of  heaven ; 
Other  balm  will  not  be  given. 

Over  the  silver  mountains 
Where  spring  the  nectar  fountains, 
There  will  I  kiss  the  bowl  of  bliss, 
And  drink  my  everlasting  fill. 
Upon  every  milken  hill ; 
My  soul  will  be  a-dry  before, 
But  after  that  will  thirst  no  more 


8o  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Fifteen  years  after  the  composition  of  tliis  h3^mn,  the 
brilliant  courtier. found  himself  again  betrayed  by  ambi- 
tion, and  again  within  the  prison  walls.  On  the  night 
before  his  death  he  wrote  the  following  lines  in  his  Bible, 
which  he  left  in  the  little  room  over  the  gatehouse,  and 
which  were  much  prized  in  their  day : 

"  Even  such  is  time,  tliat  takes  on  trust 
Our  youth,  our  joy,  and  all  we  have, 

An4  pays  us  but  with  earth  and  dust ; 
Who,  in  the  dark  and  silent  grave, 

When  we  have  wandered  all  our  ways, 

Shuts  up  the  story  of  our  days : 

But  from  this  earth,  this  grave,  this  dust, 

My  God  shall  raise  me  up,  I  trust." 


GERHARDT'S  HYMN  OF  TRUST. 

Among  the  sweet  strains  of  poetry  which  Schiller 
learned  at  his  mother's  knee,  were  the  hymns  of  that 
much  enduring  Lutheran  preacher,  Paul  Gerhardt.  The 
young  poet  loved  them ;  they  filled  his  mind  with  spirit- 
ual images,  and  lent  an  harmonious  religious  influence  to 
his  unformed  genius. 

The  influence  was  never  lost :  it  lingered  like  rays  of 
distant  splendor  amid  the  speculative  mysteries  that 
darkened  his  declining  years,  and  haunted  his  dreams, 
when  he  saw  the  sun  going  down  on  Weimar,  beautiful 
Weimar,  for  the  last  time. 

Gerhardt  was  a  great  sufferer  in  the  cause  of  reformed 
faith,  but  his  sufferings  were  in  a  measure  compensated 
by  the  supports  of  human  love.     He  was  born  in  Saxony 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  8i 

He  became  a  Christian  pastor  at  the  close  of  the  Thirty 
Years'  War,  first  at  a  small  village  called  Mittenwalde, 
and  subsequently  at  Berlin.  In  1666,  he  was  deposed 
from  his  spiritual  office  in  Berlin  on  account  of  his  rirm 
adherence  to  the  Lutheran  doctrines.  He  received  the 
reverse  submissively,  and  said  with  characteristic  lofti- 
ness of  spirit,  "  I  am  willing  to  seal  with  my  blood  the 
evangelical  truth,  and  offer  my  neck  to  the  sword." 

Gerhardt  had  a  lovely  and  amiable  wife,  whom  he 
loved  with  more  than  ordinary  devotion  and  tenderness. 
He  himself  was  willing  to  endure  evil  speaking,  hard- 
ship and  trial,  but  it  caused  him  severe  pain  to  think 
that  the  burdens  of  his  lot  must  fall  upon  her. 

A  story  is  told  of  these  altered  days,  which,  although 
some  recent  writers  have  sought  to  prove  it  untrustwor- 
thy, pious  Germans  still  love  to  repeat. 

He  had  been  ordered  to  quit  the  country  on  account 
of  the  difference  between  his  religious  sentiments  and 
those  of  the  king.  He  went  in  reduced  circumstances, 
with  his  wife  travelling  on  foot. 

One  night  they  came  to  a  village  inn.  His  wife, 
weary  with  the  journey,  and  disheartened  at  her  friend- 
less situation,  sat  down  and  began  to  weep.  Behind  her 
were  the  happy  scenes  of  her  youth ;  before  her  was  a 
land  of  strangers. 

The  poet  tried  to  comfort  her,  but  the  tears  would  flow. 

He  reminded  her  of  the  verse  in  the  Bible:  "Com- 
mit thy  way  unto  the  Lord,  trust  also  in  him,  and  he  will 
bring  it  to  pass."  "  God  will  provide,"  he  said.  "  Com- 
mit all  of  your  sorrows  into  his  hands."  ■ 


82  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

There  was  a  garden  near  at  hand,  and  in  the  garden 
an  arbor.  The  poet  left  his  weeping  wife  and  went  to 
the  arbor  for  prayer.  It  was  a  lovely  night  in  the  rosy 
time  of  the  year.  The  air  was  temperate,  the  sky  serene ; 
the  moon  shimmered  on  the  groves  and  was  glassed  on 
the  waters. 

The  poet's  mind  was  in  harmony  with  nature ;  he  felt 
a  holy  calm  within,  a  perfect  reliance  on  God.  He  be- 
gan to  express  his  thoughts  in  verse  : 

Commit  thou  al]  thy  griefs 

And  ways  into  His  hands  ; 
To  his  sure  trust  and  tender  care 

Who  earth  and  heaven  commands ; 
Who  points  the  clouds  their  course, 

Whom  wind  and  seas  obey ; 
He  shall  direct  thy  wandering  feet, 

He  shall  prepare  thy  way. 

Thou  on  the  Loi"d  rely, 

So,  safe,  shalt  thou  go  on ; 
Fix  on  .his  work  thy  steadfast  eye, 

So  shall  thy  work  be  done. 
No  profit  canst  thou  gain 

By  self-consuming  care ; 
To  him  commend  thy  cause — his  ear 

Attends  thy  softest  prayer. 

Give  to  the  winds  thy  feSrs  ; 

Hope,  and  be  undismayed ; 
God  hears  thy  sighs  and  counts  thy  tears. 

He  shall  lift  up  thy  head. 
Through  waves  and  clouds  and  storms 

He  gently  clears  thy  way ; 
Wait  thou  his  time,  so  shall  this  night 

Soon  end  in  joyous  day. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  83 

He  paused  for  a  moment,  and  thought  of  his  helpless- 
ness in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  and  of  his  weeping  wife. 
He  then  continued : 

Still  heavy  is  thy  heart  ? 

Still  sink  thy  spirits  down  ? 
Cast  off  the  weight— let  fear  depart. 

And  every  care  be  gone. 
What  though  thou  rulest  not, 

Yet  heaven,  and  earth,  and  hell, 
Proclaim— God  sitteth  on  the  throne, 

And  ruleth  all  things  well. 

Leave  to  his  sovereign  sway 

To  choose  and  to  command; 
So  shalt  thou,  wondering,  own  his  way 

How  wise,  how  strong  his  hand ! 
Far,  far  above  thy  thought 

His  counsel  shall  appear. 
When  fully  he  the  work  hath  wrought 

That  caused  thy  needless  fear. 

That  night  two  gentlemen  came  riding  to  the  inn, 
and  inquired  for  Paul  Gerhardt,  the  Lutheran  preacher 

and  poet. 

"I  am  Paul  Gerhardt,"  said  the  poet  firmly,  not 
knowing  what  new  calamity  might  follow  the  confession. 

"  We  have  come  from  Duke  Christian,"  said  the  men, 
"  who  wishes  us  to  express  to  you  his  sympathy  in  your 
persecutions  and  afflictions,  and  to  invite  you  to  come  to 
Merseburg,  and  make  that  city  your  home." 

"  God  be  praised,"  said  the  poet,  looking  upon  the 
men  more  in  the  light  of  celestial  messengers  than  de- 
spatch-bearers from  an  earthly  court.   • "  It  is  his  will." 


84  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  He  shall  direct  thy  wandering  feet, 
He  shall  prepare  thy  way." 

Gerhardt  thanked  the  messengers  with  a  heart  full  of 
emotion,  tears  filling  his  eyes.  He  went  to  his  room 
with  a  beaming  countenance,  where  his  poor  wife  was 
trying  with  Christian  confidence  to  restrain  her  feelings. 
He  told  her  the  news,  and  handed  her  the  hymn  he  had 
written  in  the  garden.  "  See,"  he  said,  "  how  God  pro- 
vides. Did  I  not  bid  you  trust  in  God,  and  all  would  be 
well  ?" 

His  wife  opened  the  paper,  and  her  eyes  fell  upon 
the  poet's  words  written  in  the  darkest  hour  of  his  life, 
when  even  her  fortitude  was  giving  way  to  despondency. 

"  Commit  thou  all  thy  griefs 
And  ways  into  His  hands." 

Gerhardt  died  at  the  age  of  seventy.  His  last  days 
were  serene,  and  witnessed  to  the  end  the  consolations 
of  an  all-victorious  faith.  He  was  spending  the  hour  in 
holy  exercises,  and  was  in  the  act  of  repeating  the  lines, 

"  Death  has  no  power  to  kill. 
But  from  many  a  dreaded  ill 
Bears  the  spirit  safe  away ;" 

when  the  heavenly  summons  came. 

We  have  said  that  Schiller  loved  the  hymns  of  Ger- 
hardt, that  he  learned  them  in  his  boyhood,  and  that 
their  influence  lingered,  tinging  with  a  certain  spiritual 
brightness  the  last  poetic  dreams  of  his  life.  But  Schil- 
ler's faith  was  not  clear.  He,  too,  died  repeating  poetry, 
but  not,  like  Gerhardt,  with  a  triumphant  expression  of 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  85 

Christian  confidence,  but,  like  his  own  religious  life,  now 
gloomed,  now  shining,  a  poem  of  hope  mingled  with 
doubt  and  uncertainty : 

"  From  out  this  dim  and  gloomy  hollow, 
Where  hang  the  cold  clouds  heavily, 
Could  I  but  gain  the  clew  to  follow, 
How  blessed  would  that  journey  be. 

"  Aloft  I  see  a  fair  dominion, 

Through  time  and  change  all  vernal  still. 
But  what  the  power,  and  where  the  pinion. 
To  gain  that  ever-blooming  hill  ? 

"  For  lo  !  between  us  rolls  a  river. 

O'er  which  a  wrathful  tempest  raves ; 
I  feel  the  spirit  shrink  and  shiver 
To  gaze  upon  its  gloomy  waves  !" 

The  heavenly  way,  which,  to  Gerhardt,  was  one  of 
excessive  brightness,  had  a  shadow  for  Schiller,  even  in 
life's  sunset,  but  he  still  aspired  for  the  religious  faith  of 
the  great  master  of  German  sacred  song. 

Another  hymn  by  Gerhardt  has  many  translations: 

Quietly  rest  the  woods  and  dales. 
Silence  around  the  earth  prevails. 

The  world  is  all  asleep : 
Then,  my  soul,  in  thought  arise, 
Seek  thy  Father  in  the  skies. 

And  holy  vigils  keep. 

Now  my  body  seeks  for  rest, 
From  its  vestments  all  undressed, 

Types  of  immortality : 
Christ  shall  give  me  soon  to  wear 
Garments  beautiful  and  fair. 
White  robes  of  majesty. 
8 


86  THE  STOR  V  OF  2HE  HYMNS, 

Weary  limbs  now  rest  ye  here, 
Safe  from  danger  and  from  fear, 

Seek  slumber  on  this  bed — 
Deeper  rest  ere  long  to  share  : 
Other  hands  shall  soon  prepare 

My  couch  among  the  dead. 

While  my  eyes  I  gently  close, 
Stealing  o'er  me  soft  repose, 

Who  shall  now  my  guardian  be  ? 
Soul  and  body  now  I  leave. 
And  thou  wilt  the  trust  receive, 

Israel's  Watchman,  unto  thee. 

This  is  the  favorite  evening  hymn  in  Germany.  The 
same  thoughts  are  expressed  in  Elder  John  Leland's 
evening  hymn,  beginning, 

"  The  day  has  passed  and  gone. 
The  evening  shades  appear; 
Oh,  may  we  all  remember  well 
The  night  of  death  draws  near. 

"  We  lay  our  garments  b}% 
Upon  our  beds  to  rest ; 
So  death  will  soon  disrobe  us  all 
Of  what  we  here  possess.'' 


K LOP  STOCK'S  HYMN. 

In  an  old  churchyard  in  Ottensen,  near  the  venera- 
ble city  of  Hamburgh,  stood  a  memorial  stone,  around 
which  groups  of  thoughtful  people  used  to  gather  in  the 
soft  twilights  of  the  golden  summer  days.  It  marked  the 
grave  of  a  lady,  famous  both  as  the  wife  of  an  admired 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  87 

Christian  poet,  and  as  a  model  of  intellectual  loveliness 
and  of  simple,  trustful  religious  faith.  At  the  top  of  the 
antique  memorial  were  carved  two  sheaves  of  wheat,  one 
leaning  on  the  other,  and  beneath  the  touching  emblem 
was  inscribed  : 

"  Seed  sown  by  God, 
To  ripen  in  the  day  of  harvest. 
MARGARETTA  KLOPSTOCK 
Waits  where  death  is  not,  for  her  friend,  her  lover,  her  husband, 
whom  she  so  much  loves,  and  by  whom  she  is  so  much  beloved. 
But  we  shall  rise  from  this  grave,  thou,  my  Klopstock,  and  I,  and 
our  son,  for  whom   I    died,  to   worship  Him,  who  died,  and  was 
buried,  and  is  risen." 

Margaretta  Moller  was  born  March  19,  1728.  She 
was  the  daughter  of  a  Hamburgh  merchant,  and  she  re- 
ceived a  liberal  education.  She  possessed  great  beauty 
of  mind  and  of  character  even  in  girlhood.  Her  aesthet- 
ic tastes  predominated  ;  her  thoughts  were  tinged  with 
poetic  fancy,  and  her  heart  was  a  pure  fountain  ever 
brimming  with  love.  She  was  a  pious  maiden,  and  her 
dispositions  were  attuned  in  perfect  harmony  by  the 
sweet  influences  of  prayer. 

When  verging  on  womanhood,  she  became  enamored 
of  the  poetry  of  Klopstock.  The  Messiah,  as  far  as  it 
was  written,  was  passing  through  rapid  editions,  and  the 
German  Milton  was  in  the  zenith  of  his  sudden  and  re- 
splendent fame.  He  was  a  stranger  to  Margaretta  Mol- 
ler :  she  had  never  met  with  him,  nor  seen  him,  but  she 
begun  to  take  a  mysterious  interest  in  his  history,  and  to 
find  loving  companionship  in  the  creations  of  his  muse. 
No  music  was  so  sweet  to  her  as  his  mellifluous  hexame- 


88  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

ters.  As  she  dwelt  on  his  subhme  flights  of  seraph-like 
song,  and  caught  new  light  from  his  luminous  spirit, 
her  affections  began  to  be  engaged  in  one  whom  she 
never  saw,  nor  ever  expected  to  see.  She  wrote  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend  :  "  In  one  happy  night  I  read  my  husband's 
poem  the  Messiah.  I  was  extremely  touched  with  it. 
The  next  day  I  asked  one  of  his  friends  who  was  the 
author  of  this  poem  ;  and  this  was  the  first  time  I  heard 
Klopstock's  name." 

In  1751,  Klopstock,  having  received  an  invitation 
from  Frederick  V.  to  visit  the  Danish  court,  set  out  for 
Copenhagen,  and  on  his  journey  stopped  at  Hamburgh. 
He  was  informed  of  the  interest  that  Miss  Moller  took 
in  his  poetry,  and  learning  something  of  her  elegant  taste 
and  excellence  of  character,  he  made  her  a  visit.  Lava- 
ter,  who  was  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  the  Messiah,  calls 
Klopstock  "  that  confidant  of  the  angels."  He  was  in- 
deed a  most  humble  and  exemplary  man,  and  there  were 
times  of  poetic  inspiration,  when  his  pure  spirit  seemed 
to  gleam  with  seraphic  fire.  He  united  a  masculine 
genius  to  a  womanly  tenderness  of  thought  and  feeling, 
and  in  disposition  and  tastes,  he  was  a  perfect  counter- 
part of  Margaretta  Moller.  The  meeting  of  these  con- 
genial spirits  could  hardly  fail  to  enkindle  a  flame  of  pure, 
trustful  love.  Klopstock  went  to  the  splendors  of  the 
Danish  court,  enamored  of  Meta,  and  Miss  Moller  de- 
clared after  his  departure  that  her  thoughts  were  all  of 
Klopstock.  A  correspondence  followed,  and  in  a  year 
he  again  visited  Hamburgh,  when  the  happy  lovers  were 
betrothed.     Two  years  afterwards  they  were  married. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  89 

The  married  life  of  Klopstock  presents  a  scene  of 
connubial  felicity  that  seems  more  like  a  dream  of  ro- 
mance than  sober  reality.  Accounts  of  it  have  been 
published  in  many  tongues,  and  have  added  much  to  the 
high  esteem  in  which  he  ever  has  been  held  as  a  Chris- 
tian and  a  man.  She  speaks  of  the  union  in  her  girlish 
way,  in  a  letter,  written  not  long  before  her  decease ; 
"  We  married,  and  I  am  the  happiest  wife  in  the  world." 

The  last  cantos  of  the  Messiah  owe  much  of  their 
peculiar  beauty  to  the  inspiration  that  Meta  afforded  the 
charming  poet.  In  a  letter  dated  Hamburgh,  May  6, 
1758,  she  thus  pictures  the  halcyon  days  of  their  literary 
life: 

"  It  will  be  a  delightful  occupation  for  me,  to  make  you 
more  acquainted  with  my  husband's  poem.  Nobody  can 
do  it  better  than  I,  being  the  person  that  knows  the 
most  of  that  which  is  not  yet  published  ;  being  always 
present  at  the  birth  of  the  young  verses,  which  begin 
always  by  fragments  here  and  there,  of  a  subject  of  which 
his  soul  is  just  then  filled.  He  has  many  great  fragments 
of  the  whole  work  ready.  You  may  think  that  persons 
who  love  as  we  do  have  no  need  of  two  apartments  ;  we 
are  always  in  the  same.  I  with  my  little  work,  still — 
still — only  regarding  sometimes  my  husband's  sweet  face, 
which  is  so  venerable  at  that  time !  with  tears  of  devo- 
tion, and  all  the  sublimity  of  the  subject,  my  husband 
reading  me  his  young  verses  and  suffering  my  criticisms. 
Ten  books  are  published,  which  I  think  probably  the 
middle  of  the  whole." 

In  the  autumn  of  1758,  she  was  about  to  become  a 
8* 


90  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

mother.  Her  joy  in  prospect  of  the  event  is  expressed 
in  many  delightful  and  exquisitely  delicate  passages  in 
her  correspondence.  The  union  of  the  wedded  pair 
never  had  been  so  spiritual  and  sympathetic  as  in  these 
serene  autumn  days.  Each  lived  for  the  happiness  of 
the  other,  and  both  dwelt  in  the  perpetual  sunlight  of  God. 

But  the  light  of  Paradise  was  glimmering  amid  the 
sunbeams  of  these  happy  days.  Meta  Klopstock  was 
treading  the  borders  of  the  unseen  world.  After  the 
birth  of  her  child,  her  health  sunk  rapidly,  and  it  became 
evident  that  her  life  was  drawing  to  a  close. 

Her  death  scene  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  biog- 
raphy, and,  perhaps,  no  one  has  touched  upon  it  more 
tenderly  than  the  great  poet  himself.  He  thus  describes 
one  of  their  last  affecting  interviews  :  "  I  came  in  just  as 
she  had  been  bled.  A  light  having  been  brought  near, 
I  saw  her  face  clearly  for  the  first  time  after  many  hours. 
Ah,  my  Cramer,  the  hue  of  death  was  on  it.  But  that 
God  who  was  so  mightily  with  her  supported  me  too  at 
the  sight.  I  said,  '  I  will  fulfil  my  promise,  my  Meta,  and 
tell  you  that  your  life,  from  extreme  weakness,  is  in  dan- 
ger.' I  pronounced  over  her  the  name  of  the  Father; 
the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Ghost.  'Now  the  will  of  Him 
who  inexpressibly  supports  thee,  his  will  be  done  I'  '  Let 
him  do  according  to  his  will,'  said  she  ;  '  He  will  do  well.' 
She  said  this  is  a  most  sweet,  expressive  tone  of  joy  and 
confidence.  '  You  have  endured  like  an  angel ;  God  has 
been  with  you  ;  he  will  be  with  you.  His  mighty  name 
be  praised.  The  Most  Merciful  will  support  you.'  '  Be  my 
guardian  angel,  if  our  God  permit.'     '  Who  would  not  be 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  91 

so  ?'  said  she.  At  parting  she  said  to  me  very  sweetly, 
'  Thou  wilt  follow  me.' 

"  Shortly  after  her  release,  I  wished  to  see  what  I 
had  just  before  called  my  Meta.  They  prevented  me. 
I  said  to  one  of  our  friends,  '  Then  I  will  forbear.  SJie 
zvill  rise  again!  " 

The  great  poet  yielded  to  no  weak  repinings  in  these 
altered  days.  Heaven  to  him  brightened  with  new  at- 
tractions, and  his  soul  was  filled  with  ineffable  delight  in 
his  religious  contemplations  and  devotions.  Of  one  of 
these  seasons  of  spiritual  elevation  he  writes : 

"  The  second  night  came  the  blessing  of  her  death. 
Till  then  I  had  looked  upon  it  only  as  a  trial.  The 
blessing  of  such  a  death  in  its  full  power  came  on  me. 
I  passed  above  an  hour  in  silent  rapture.  The  highest 
degree  of  peace  with  which  I  am  acquainted  was  in  my  soul. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  describe  all  the  blessings  of  that 
hour.  I  was  never  before  with  such  certainty  convinced 
of  my  salvation." 

Happy  soul  !  Of  himself  he  could  say  in  the  hour  of 
his  desolation,  "  I  know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,"  and 
of  Meta,  "  She  will  rise  again." 

THOU  SHALT  RISE. 

FROM  THE  GERMAN  OF  KLOPSTOCK. 

Thou  shalt  rise  !  my  dust,  thou  shalt  arise ! 
Not  always  closed  thine  eyes  : 

Thy  life's  first  Giver 

Will  give  thee  life  for  ever, 

Ah!  praise  his  name'! 


92  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Sown  in  darkness,  but  to  bloom  again. 
When,  after  winter's  reign, 

Jesus  is  reaping 

The  seed  now  quietly  sleeping. 
Ah  !  praise  his  name  ! 

Day  of  praise  !  for  thee  thou  wondrous  day, 

In  my  quiet  grave  I  stay ; 
And  when  I  number 
My  days  and  nights  of  slumber, 
Thou  wakest  me  ! 

Then,  as  they  who  dream,  we  shall  arise 

With  Jesus  to  the  skies. 

And  find  that  morrow, 
The  weary  pilgrim's  sorrow 
All  past  and  gone  ! 

Then,  with  the  Holiest  I  tread, 
By  my  Redeemer  led, 

Through  heaven  soaring, 

His  holy  name  adoring 
Eternally ! 


SAMUEL  RUTHERFORD.  , 
The  expression 

"  But  glory,  glory  dwelleth 
In  Immanuel's  land," 

has  been  often  quoted,  and  the  hymn  to  which  these 
lines'  are  the  refrain  has  come  into  general  use.  The 
hymn  as  printed  in  the  hymn-books  is  but  a  fragment 
of  a  long  poem.  It  has  a  beautiful  origin  and  an  inter- 
esting history. 

Samuel  Rutherford  was  a  Scotch  divine  at  Anworth, 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  93 

and  because  of  his  fidelity  to  the  doctrines  of  the  reformed 

faith,  was  immured  in  the  dungeons  of  St  Andrew, 

"  For  Anworth  was  not  heaven, 
And  preaching  was  not  Christ." 

He  remained  true  to  his  convictions  of  duty  to  the  last, 
and  died  in  triumph.  His  last  words  were :  "  Glory, 
glory  dwelleth  in  Immanuel's  land!"  This  expression 
forms  the  refrain  of  the  following  very  tender  religious 
ballad,  which  we  reproduce  entire  : 

The  sands  of  time  are  sinking, 

The  dawn  of  heaven  breaks. 
The  summer  morn  I  've  sighed  for — 

The  fair,  sweet  morn— awakes. 
Dark,  dark  hath  been  the  midnight, 

But  dayspring  is  at  hand  ; 
And  glory,  glory  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 
Oh  !  well  it  is  for  ever — 

Oh  !  well  for  evermore  :  •■ 

My  nest  hung  in  no  forest 

Of  all  this  death-doomed  shore  ; 
Yea,  let  this  vain  world  vanish, 

As  from  the  ship  the  strand, 
While  glory,  glory  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

There  the  red  Rose  of  Sharon 

Unfolds  its  heartsome  bloom. 
And  fills  the  air  of  heaven 

With  ravishing  perfume ; 
Oh  !  to  behold  it  blossom, 

While  by  its  fragrance  fanned. 
Where  glory,  glory  dwelleth. 

In  Immanuel's  land  ! 


94  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

The  King  there,  in  his  beauty, 

Without  a  veil  is  seen  ; 
"It  were  a  well-spent  journey, 

Though  seven  deaths  lay  between." 
The  Lamb  with  his  fair  army 

Doth  on  Mount  Zion  stand, 
And  glory,  glory  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 


O  Christ — He  is  the  fountain. 

The  deep,  sweet  well  of  love  ! 
The  streams  on  earth  I  've  tasted. 

More  deep  I  '11  drink  above  : 
There  to  an  ocean  fulness 

His  mercy  doth  expand, 
And  glory,  glory  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

Oft  in  yon  sea-beat  prison 

My  Lord  and  I  held  tryst ; 
For  Anworth  was  not  heaven. 

And  preaching  was  not  Christ. 
And  aye  my  murkiest  storm-cloud 

Was  by  a  rainbow  spanned, 
Caught  from  the  glory  dwelling 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

But  that  he  built  a  heaven 

Of  his  surpassing  love — 
A  little  New  Jerusalem 

Like  to  the  one  above — 
"  Lord,  take  me  o'er  the  water," 

Had  been  my  loud  demand  ; 
*'  Take  me  to  love's  own  country 

L'^nto  Immanuel's  land  !" 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  95 

But  flowers  need  night's  cool  darkness, 

The  moonlight,  and  the  dew ; 
So  Christ,  from  one  who  loved  it, 

His  shining  oft  withdrew. 
And  then  for  cause  of  absence  -+ 

My  troubled  soul  I  scanned  ; 
But  glory  shadeless  shineth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 


The  little  birds  of  Anworth — 

I  used  to  count  them  blest ; 
Now  beside  happier  altars 

I  go  to  build  my  nest ; 
O'er  these  there  broods  no  silence, 

No  graves  around  them  stand  : 
For  glory  deathless  dwelleth 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

Fair  Anworth  by  the  Solway, 

To  me  thou  still  art  dear ; 
E'en  from  the  verge  of  heaven 

I  drop  for  thee  a  tear. 
Oh,  if  one  soul  from  Anworth 

Meet  me  at  God's  right  hand, 
My  heaven  will  be  two  heavens, 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

I  've  wrestled  on  toward  heaven, 

'Gainst  storm,  and  wind,  and  tide ; 
Now,  like  a  weary  traveller 

That  leaneth  on  his  guide,  -^ 

Amid  the  shades  of  evening. 

While  sinks  life's  lingering  sand, 
I  hail  the  glory  dawning 

From  Immanuel's  land. 


96  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS, 

Deep  waters  crossed  life's  pathway, 
The  hedge  of  thorns  was  sharp  ; 

Now  these  lie  all  behind  me. 
Oh,  for  a  well  tuned  harp  ! 

Oh,  to  join  Hallelujah 
^  With  yon  triumphant  band, 

Who  sing  where  glory  dwelleth, 
In  Immanuel's  land ! 


With  mercy  and  with  judgment 

My  web  of  time  he  wove, 
And  aye  the  dews  of  sorrow 

Were  lustered  with  his  love. 
I  '11  bless  the  hand  that  guided, 

I  '11  bless  the  heart  that  planned, 
When  throned  where  glory  dwelleth, 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

Soon  shall  the  cup  of  glory 

Wash  down  earth's  bitterest  woes ; 
Soon  shall  the  desert  brier 

Break  into  Eden's  rose  ; 
The  curse  shall  change  to  blessing, 

The  name  on  earth  that 's  banned 
Be  graven  on  the  White  Stone 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

Oh,  I  am  my  Beloved's, 

And  my  Beloved  is  mine  ! 
He  brings  a  poor  vile  sinner 

Into  his  "  house  of  wine." 
I  stand  upon  his  merit; 

I  know  no  safer  stand. 
Not  even  where  glory  dwelleth, 

In  Immanuel's  land. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  97 

I  shall  sleep  sound  in  Jesus, 

Filled  with  his  likeness  rise, 
To  love  and  to  adore  him. 

To  see  him  with  these  eyes ; 
'Tween  me  and  resurrection 

But  Paradise  doth  stand, 
Then — then  for  glory,  dwelling 

In  Immanuel's  land ! 


The  bride  eyes  not  her  garments. 

But  her  dear  bridegroom's  face  : 
I  will  not  gaze  at  glory, 

But  at  my  King  of  grace  ; 
Not  at  the  crown  he  giveth, 

But  on  his  pierced  hand  : 
The  Lamb  is  all  the  glory 

Of  Immanuel's  land. 


I  have  borne  scorn  and  hatred, 

I  have  borne  wrong  and  shame, 
Earth's  proud  ones  have  reproached  me 

For  -Christ's  thrice  blessed  name. 
Where  God's  seal's  set  the  fairest, 

They  've  stamped  their  foulest  brand ; 
But  judgment  shines  like  noonday 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

They've  summoned  me  before  them. 

But  there  I  may  not  come  ; 
l\Iy  Lord  says,  "  Come  up  hither ;" 

My  Lord  says,  "  Welcome  home  ;" 
My  King  at  his  white  throne 

My  presence  doth  command, 
Where  glory,  glory  dwelleth, 

In  Immanuel's  land. 

y 


98  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

ADDISON'S  TRA  VELLER'S  HYMN. 
How  are  thy  servants  blessed,  O  Lord, 

How  sure  is  their  defence  ! 
Eternal  Wisdom  is  their  guide, 
Their  help  Omnipotence. 

In  foreign  realms,  and  lands  remote, 

Supported  by  thy  care, 
Through  burning  climes  they  pass  unhurt, 

And  breathe  in  tainted  air. 

When  by  the  dreadful  tempest  borne 

High  on  the  broken  wave, 
They  know  thou  art  not  slow  to  hear. 

Nor  impotent  to  save. 

The  storm  is  laid,  the  winds  retire. 

Obedient  to  thy  will ; 
The  sea,  that  roars  at  thy  command, 

At  thy  command  is  still. 

In  midst  of  dangers,  fears,  and  deaths. 

Thy  goodness  we  '11  adore  ; 
We  '11  praise  thee  for  thy  mercies  past, 
-    And  humbly  hope  for  more. 

Our  life,  while  thou  preserv'st  that  life, 

Thy  sacrifice  shall  be  : 
And  death,  when  death  shall  be  our  lot, 

Shall  join  our  souls  to  thee. 

This  hymn,  often  used  in  divine  worship  by  travellers, 
vv^as  first  published  in  No.  489  of  the  "  Spectator,"  for 
Sept.  20,  1 71 2.  The  article  to  which  it  is  appended  is 
on  the  sublimity  of-  the  sea,  and  the  passages  that  de- 
scribe the  majestic  phenomena  of  the  deep  in  Holy 
Writ.     It  was  doubtless  written  while  the  ocean  scenery 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL. 


99 


was  fresh  in  the  author's  mind,  and  is  a  choice  expression 
of  a  pecuHar  Christian  experience.  It  is  claimed  that 
Addison  wrote  this  piece  immediately  after  his  conti- 
nental tour  in  1 700-1.  The  original  has  a  fine  stanza 
that  is  commonly  omitted  : 

"  Thy  mercy  sweetened  every  soil, 
Made  every  region  please. 
The  hoary  Alpine  hills  it  vifarmed, 
And  smoothed  the  Tyrrhene  seas." 


COUNT  ZhYZENDORF'S  HYMN. 

J.  WESLEY'S  TRANSLATION. 

Jesus,  thy  blood  and  righteousness 
My  beauty  are,  my  glorious  dress : 
'Midst  flaming  worlds,  in  these  arrayed, 
With  joy  shall  I  lift  up  my  head. 

Bold  shall  I  stand  in  thy  great  day, 
For  who  aught  to  my  charge  shall  lay  ? 
Fully  absolved  through  these  I  am — 
From  sin  and  fear,  from  guilt  and  shame. 

The  holy,  meek,  unspotted  Lamb, 
Who  from  the  Father's  bosom  came — 
Who  died  for  me,  e'en  me  t'  atone — 
Now  for  my  Lord  and  God  I  own. 

Lord,  I  believe  thy  precious  blood — 
Which,  at  the  mercy-seat  of  God 
For  ever  doth  for  sinners  plead — 
For  me,  e'en  for  my  soul,  was  shed. 

Lord,  I  believe  were  sinners  more 
Than  sands  upon  the  ocean  shore, 
Thou  hast  for  all  a  ransom  paid. 
For  all  a  full  atonement  made. 


loo  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

When  from  the  dust  of  death  I  rise 
To  claim  my  mansion  in  the  skies, 
E'en  then  shall  this  be  all  my  plea, 
Jesus  hath  lived  and  died  for  me. 

The  first  stanza  of  the  above  hymn  is  very  v^^ell 
known  in  Germany,  and  is  there  frequently  quoted  at 
deathbeds,  as  Dr.  Watts'  stanza,  beginning, 

"Jesus  can' make  a  dying  bed,' 

is  quoted  in  the  English  tongue.  The  sentiment  in  the 
fourth  and  fifth  stanzas  was  particularly  acceptable  to  the 
primitive  Methodists. 

The  hymn,  which  in  the  original  has  thirty  stanzas, 
was  written  by  Count  Zinzendorf,  (i  700-1 760,)  one  of 
the  purest  and  most  spiritual  of  men,  the  founder  of  the 
religious  community  of  Herrnhut.  and  the  champion  and 
defender  of  the  United  Moravian  Brethren. 

His  childhood  was  remarkable  for  its  confiding  sim- 
plicity and  the  beauty  of  piety.  He  used  to  gather  chil- 
dren to  pray  with  him,  and  his  pure  and  aspiring  imagi- 
nation found  delight  in  writing  messages  of  love  to  the 
Saviour.  Referring  to  his  youthful  days  and  the  purity 
of  his  motives,  he  says:  "The  desire  to  bring  souls  to 
Jesus  took  possession  of  me,  and  my  heart  became  fixed 
on  the  Lamb." 

From  his  eleventh  to  his  sixteenth  year,  Zinzendorf 
studied  at  Halle,  under  the  pietist  Franke,  the  founder 
of  the  celebrated  orphan  school.  He  travelled  widely, 
obtained  great  learning,  and  a  large  knowledge  of  so- 
ciety. He  became  in  earlv  life  enamored  of  Theodosia, 
%he  daughter  of   the   Countess  of  Castell,   but  from   a 


^  U4vlfnMC  L^"^ 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  loi 

strong  sense  of  duty,  resigned  his  place  in  her  heart  to 
the  reigning  Count  of  Reussebersdorf.  "  From  that  mo- 
ment," he  said  to  Charles  Wesley,  of  this  act  of  self-sac- 
rifice, "  I  was  freed  from  all  self-seeking,  so  that  for  ten 
years  I  have  not  done  my  own  will  in  anything,  great  or 
small.     My  own  will  is  hell  to  me." 

In  1 73 1  Count  Zinzendorf  resigned  all  public  duties, 
and  the  encumbrances  that  follow  rank,  to  devote  himself 
to  the  service  of  the  Moravian  Brethren.  He  travelled 
extensively  in  their  behalf,  extending  his  journeys  to 
America,  where  he  labored  more  than  a  year  in  Penn- 
sylvania. He  wrote  many  works,  and  two  thousand 
hymns.  Among  his  last  words  were,  *'  I  am  going  to 
my  Saviour." 

His  hymn,  beginning, 

"Jesus,  thy  blood  and  righteousness," 
was  written  on  the  island  of  St.  Eustatius,  on  his  return 
from  visiting  the  missionaries  in  the  West  Indies.  He 
was  filled  at  the  time  with  a  large  missionary  spirit,  and 
a  lofty  religious  confidence,  as  the  hymn  itself  strongly 
evidences. 

• 

LADY  HUNTINGDON'S  HYMN 
Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  the  friend  of  White- 
field,  devoted  her  time  and  fortune  to  the  welfare  of  others. 
In  her  maidenhood  she  heard  her  sister-in-law,  Lady  Mar- 
garet Hastings,  remark,  that  since  she  had  known  and 
believed  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  life  and  salvation, 
she  had  been  as  happy  as  an  angel. 

This  remark  made  an  impression  upon  her  mind.     It 

9* 


I02  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

led  her  to  desire  to  become  a  follower  of  Christ,  and  after- 
wards resulted  in  her  belief  in  him  as  her  Saviour.  Her 
after-life  was  very  attractive  in  the  devoted  piety  that 
she  exhibited  by  her  unwearied  usefulness.  She  erected 
chapels  at  her  own  expense,  and  lived  abstemiously  that 
she  might  give  more  money  to  the  poor  and  advance 
the  religion  of  her  Master. 

Her  religious  experience  was  continuous,  and  was 
sanctified  by  affliction : 

"  The  world  can  neither  give,  nor  take, 
Nor  can  they  comprehend 
The  peace  of  God,  which  Christ  has  bought — 
The  peace  which  knows  no  end. 

"  The  burning  bush  was  not  consumed. 
While  God  remained  there  ; 
The  three,  when  Jesus  made  the  Fourth, 
Found  fire  as  soft  as  air. 

"  God's  furnace  doth  in  Zion  stand, 
But  Zion's  God  sits  by, 
As  the  refiner  views  his  gold, 
With  an  observant  eye. 

"  His  thoughts  are  high,  his  love  is  wise, 
His  wounds  a  cure  intend; 
And,  though  he  does  not  always  smile. 
He  loves  unto  the  end." 

She  died  at  the  age  of  eighty-four.  A  year  before 
her  death  she  met  with  an  accident,  which  was  the  be- 
ginning of  her  last  illness.  Although  in  great  pain,  her 
mind  was  at  perfect  peace.  As  death  drew  near,  she 
often   said,  with   emphasis,   "„The  coming  of  the   Lord 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  103 

draweth  nigh!  The  thought  fills  me  with  joy  unspeak- 
able !" 

Here  was  the  ground  of  her  hopes  and  her  happiness  : 
"  I  see,"  she  said,  "  myself  a  poor  worm,  drawing  near  to 
Jesus.  What  hope  could  I  entertain  if  I  did  not  know 
the  efficacy  of  his  blood  ?  How  little  could  anything 
that  I  have  done  give  a  moment's  rest  at  such  an  hour 
as  this !  I  confess  I  have  no  hope  but  that  which  inspired 
the  dying  malefactor  at  the  side  of  my  Lord,  and  I  must 
be  saved  in  the  same  way,  as  freely,  as  fully,  or  not  at  all." 

New  views  and  revelations  came  to  her  in  her  tri- 
umph over  the  terrors  of  death.  "  I  cannot  tell  you," 
she  said,  "  in  what  light  I  now  see  these  words :  '  If  a 
man  love  me,  he  will  keep  my  words,  and  my  Father  will 
love  him,  and  we  will  come  unto  him,  and  make  our 
abode  with  him.'  To  have  in  this  room  such  company, 
and  to  have  such  an  eternal  prospect!  I  see  this  subject 
now  in  a  light  impossible  to  be  described.  I  know  my 
capacity  will  be  then  enlarged,  but  I  am  now  as  sensible 
of  the  presence  of  God,  as  I  am  of  the  jjresence  of  those 
I  have  with  me." 

Her  dying  testimony  was  a  fitting  close  to  so  grand 
an  earthly  life. 

"  My  work  is  done ;  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  go 
to  my  Father!" 

Lady  Huntingdon's  motives  were  very  pure  and  sin- 
cere, and  she  ruled  her  life  by  secret  self-examination, 
living  always  with  eternity  in  view.  Her  best  known 
hymn  has  reference  to  this  constant  aim  to-keep  a  blame- 
less conscience  in  the  sio-ht  of  God. 


I04  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

When  thou,  my  righteous  Judge,  shalt  come, 
To  take  thy  ransomed  people  home, 

Shall  I  among  them  stand  ? 
Shall  such  a  worthless  worm  as  I, 
Who  sometimes  am  afraid  to  die, 

Be  found  at  thy  right  hand  ? 

I  love  to  meet  thy  people  now. 
Before  thy  feet  with  them  to  bow, 

Though  vilest  of  them  all ; 
But  can  I  bear  the  piercing  thought 
What  if  my  name  should  be  left  out. 

When  thou  for  them  shalt  call  ? 

O  Lord,  prevent  it  by  thy  grace  : 
Be  thou  my  only  hiding  place, 

In  this  th'  accepted  day; 
Thy  pardoning  voice  oh  let  me  hear, 
To  still  my  unbelieving  fear. 

Nor  let  me  fall,  I  pray. 

Among  thy  saints  let  me  be  found, 
Whene'er  the  archangel's  trump  shall  sound, 

To  see  thy  smiling  face  ; 
Then  loudest  of  the  throng  I  '11  sing. 
While  heaven's  resounding  arches  ring 
With  shouts  of  sovereisrn  grace. 


JOHN  WESLEY'S  HYMN. 

How  happy  is  the  pilgrim's  lot; 
How  free  from  every  anxious  thought. 

From  worldly  hope  and  fear ! 
Confined  to  neither  court  nor  cell. 
His  soul  disdains  on  earth  to  dwell, 

He  only  sojourns  here. 


J.'n^c^ iozvr'^cs.&x  Parad'-se 


jf@mi?i    w:^^z.:lt 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  J03 

This  happiness  in  part  is  mine, 
Already  saved  from  low  design, 

From  every  creature-love ; 
Blest  with  the  scorn  of  finite  good, 
My  soul  is  lightened  of  its  load, 

And  seeks  the  things  above. 

The  things  eternal  I  pursue, 
My  happiness  beyond  the  view 

Of  those  who  basely  pant ; 
The  things  by  nature  felt  and  seen. 
Their  honors,  wealth,  and  pleasures  mean, 

I  neither  have  nor  want. 

There  is  my  house  and  portion  fair ; 
My  treasure  and  my  heart  are  there. 

And  my  abiding  home  ; 
For  me  my  elder  brethren  stay. 
And  angels  beckon  me  away. 
And  Jesus  bids  me  come. 

I  come,  thy  servant.  Lord,  replies ; 
I  come  to  meet  thee  in  the  skies. 

And  claim  my  heavenly  rest ! 
Soon  will  the' pilgrim's  journey  end; 
Then,  O  my  Saviour,  Brother,  Friend, 

Receive  me  to  thy  breast ! 

This  hymn,  which  we  give  as  we  find  it  in  many  col- 
lections, but  which  is  greatly  extended  by  the  narration 
of  personal  circumstances  in  the  original,  was  written  by 
John  Wesley,  at  the  most  stormy  and  tempestuous  period 
of  his  life,  when  his  lot  from  a  worldly  point  of  view 
would  have  been  deemed  anything  but  happy. 

On  February  17,  1746,  when  days  were  short  and 
weather  far  from  favorable,  he  set  out  on  horseback  from 


io6  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Bristol  to  Newcastle,  a  distance  between  three  and  four 
hundred  miles.  The  journey  occupied  ten  weary  days. 
Brooks  were  swollen,  and  in  some  places  the  roads  were 
impassable,  obliging  the  itinerant  to  go  round  through 
the  fields.  At  Aldrige  Heath,  in  Straffordshire,  the  rain 
turned  to  snow,  which  the  northerly  wind  drove  against 
him,  and  by  which  he  was  soon  crusted  over  from  head 
to  foot.  At  Leeds,  the  mob  followed  him,  and  pelted 
him  with  whatever  came  to  hand.  He  arrived  at  New- 
castle, February  26,  "free  from  every  anxious  thought," 
and  "  every  worldly  fear." 

It  was  amid  such  scenes  as  these  that  the  hymn  was 
written,  though  we  have  not  the  exact  date. 

The  hymn  in  the  original  is  autobiographical.  Wes- 
ley had  at  the  time  of  writing  it  no  wife,  and  he  held  no 
property,  having  made  over  his  estates  to  trustees.  He 
says, 

"  I  have  no  babes  to  hold  me  liere, 
But  children  more  sincerely  dear 

Than  mine  I  humbly  claim, 
Better  than  daughters  or  than  sons, 
Temples  divine  of  living  stones, 
Inscribed  in  Jesus'  name. 

•"  No  foot  of  land  do  I  possess, 
No  cottage  in  the  wilderness ; 

A  poor  wayfaring  man, 
I  lodge  awhile  in  tents  below. 
Or  gladly  wander  to  and  fro, 

Till  I  my  Canaan  gain." 

John  Wesley  was  disposed  to  lightly  regard  all  of  the 
scenes  of  distressing   self-sacrifice    associated    with  his 


HISTORICAL  A  AD  PERSONAL.  107 

itinerant  labors.      After  a  most  calamitous  journey,  he 
once  was  known  to  declare  : 

"  Pain,  disappointment,  sickness,  strife, 
Whate'er  molests  or  troubles  life. 
When  past,  as  nothing  we  esteem, 
And  pain  like  pleasure  is  a  dream." 


CHARLES  WESLEY'S  WATCH-NIGHT  HYMNS. 

Wesley  concluded  the  eventful  year  of  1740  at  Bris- 
tol, by  holding  a  watch-meeting,  proposed  by  James 
Rogers,  a  Kingswood  collier,  noted  among  his  neighbors 
for  his  playing  on  the  violin,  but  who,  being  awakened 
under  the  ministry  of  Charles  Wesley,  went  home,  burnt 
his  fiddle,  and  told  his  wife  he  meant  to  seek  religion. 

This  was  the  first  watch-night  meeting  among  the 
Methodists.  The  people  met  at  half-past  eight :  the 
house  was  filled  from  end  to  end,  and  "  we  concluded  the 
year,"  says  Wesley,  "wrestling  with  God  in  prayer,  and 
praising  him  for  the  wonderful  work  which  he  had  al- 
ready wrought  upon  the  earth." 

The  meeting  became  a  favorite  one  and  was  held 
monthly.  The  church  in  ancient  times  was  accustomed 
to  spend  whole  nights  in  prayer,  which  nights  were 
termed  vigilicz  or  vigils  :  and  sanctioned  by  such  au- 
thority, Wesley  appointed  monthly  watch-nights,  on  the 
Friday  nearest  the  full  moon,  desiring  that  they,  and  they 
only  should  attend,  who  could  do  so  without  prejudice  to 
their  business  or  families. 

The  annual  watch-night  services  on  New  Year's  eves. 


io8  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

appointed  by  the  Wesleys,  had  been  continued  by  the 
Wesleyan  societies.  Charles  Wesley  wrote,  both  for  the 
monthly  watch-night,  and  for  the  annual  watch-night,  a 
number  of  hymns  whose  sublime  and  solemn  language 
is  in  harmony  with  the  impressive  and  somewhat  poe- 
tic occasions  that  inspired  them.  One  of  these  begins, 
"  Ye  virgin  souls,  arise." 
Another : 

How  many  pass  the  guilty  night, 
In  revelling  and  frantic  mirth  ! 
The  creature  is  their  sole  delight — 

Their  happiness  the  things  of  earth: 
For  us  suffice  the  season  past : 
We  choose  the  better  part  at  last. 

We  will  not  close  our  wakeful  eyes, 

We  will  not  let  our  eyelids  sleep, 
But  humbly  lift  them  to  the  skies, 

And  all  a  solemn  vigil  keep  ; 
So  many  nights  on  sin  bestowed, 
Can  we  not  watch  one  hour  for  God  ? 

WA  TCH-NIGHT. 

How  happy,  gracious  Lord,  are  we, 
Divinely  drawn  to  follow  thee, 

Whose  hours  divided  are 
Betwixt  the  mount  and  multitude  : 
Our  day  is  spent  in  doing  good, 

Our  night  in  praise  and  prayer. 

With  us  no  melancholy  void. 
No  moment  lingers  unemployed 

Or  unimproved  below : 
Our  weariness  of  life  is  gone, 
"Vyho  lived  to  serve  our  God  alone, 

And  only  thee  to  know. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  109 

The  winter's  night  and  summer's  day 
Glide  imperceptibly  away, 

Too  short  to  sing  thy  praise  ; 
Too  few  we  find  tlie  happy  hours, 
And  haste  to  join  those  heavenly  bowers 

In  everlasting  lays. 

With  all  who  chant  thy  name  on  high, 
And,  Holy,  holy,  holy !  cry, 

(A  bright,  harmonious  throng) 
We  long  thy  praises  to  repeat. 
And  ceaseless  sing  around  thy  seat 

The  new  eternal  sons:. 


NEW  YEAR'S  VIGIL. 

Come,  let  us  anew  our  journey  pursue, 

Roll  round  with  the  year, 
And  never  stand  still  till  the  Master  appear. 
His  adorable  will  let  us  gladly  fulfil, 

And  our  talents  improve, 
By  the  patience  of  hope,  and  the  labor  of  love. 

Our  life  is  a  dream  ;  our  time,  as  a  stream, 

Glides  swiftly  away, 
And  the  fugitive  moment  refuses  to  stay. 
The  arrow  is  flown — the  moment  is  gone  ; 

The  millennial  year 
Rushes  on  to  our  view,  and  eternity  's  here. 

0  that  each,  in  the  day  of  his  coming,  may  say — 

I  have  fought  my  way  through  : 

1  have  finished  the  work  thou  didst  give  me  to  do. 

Oh  that  each  from  his  Lord- may  receive  the  glad  word- 
Well  and  faithfully  done  ! 
Enter  into  my  joy,  and  sit  down  on  my  throne. 
10 


no  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

CHARLES  WESLEY'S  HYMN  IN  TIME  OF  TROUBLE. 

Early  in  the  year  1750,  the  city  of  London  was 
twice  severely  shaken  by  shocks  of  an  .earthquake.  Sev- 
eral weeks  elapsed  between  the  first  and  second  con- 
vulsions, during  which  interim,  the  earth  seems  to 
have  been  internally  agitated.  The  public  mind  was  un- 
settled with  apprehension,  and  the  parks  and  squares, 
where  the  people  were  wont  to  assemble,  presented  at 
times  a  very  impressive  spectacle. 

For  several  years  after  the  threatened  calamity  at 
London,  the  earth  seemed  to  be  in  trouble.  The  stroke 
came  at  last,  but  it  fell  upon  the  South,  upon  Lisbon  and 
Quito.  The  work  of  destruction  in  these  two  cities 
indicates  the  magnitude  of  the  calamity  to  which  the 
great  centre  of  life  on  the  eastern  isle  seemed  to  be 
exposed. 

George  Whitefield  and  Charles  Wesley  were  in  Lon- 
don during  these  days  of  peril.  Seldom,  if  ever,  had 
these  zealous  men  preached  so  acceptably  as  they  did 
then.  The  most  profane  were  overawed  by  the  danger 
and  sublimity  of  the  situation,  and  the  most  hardened 
and  unbelieving  were  eager  to  listen  to  the  doctrine  of 
God's  providence,  and  to  the  promises  of  the  gospel. 
Mr.  Whitefield  once  preached  a  sermon  at  midnight  to 
an  immense  concourse  of  people  in  Hyde  Park,  who 
seemed  to  receive  the  truth  as  from  the  very  brink  of 
eternity.  The  effect  was  impressive  in  the  extreme. 
Cries  and  groans  were  heard  on  every  hand.  Penitent 
ejaculations  and  prayers  for  mercy  trembled  on  every  lip. 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  iii 

The  following  extracts  from  a  letter,  written  at  Lon- 
don at  this  time,  afford  a  brief  but  interesting  view  of 
the  agitated  city : 

"  All  London  has  been,  for  some  days  past,  under  terri- 
ble apprehensions  of  another  earthquake.  Yesterday  thou- 
sands fled  from  the  town,  it  having  been  confidently  predict- 
ed by  a  dragoon  that  he  had  a  revelation  that  a  great  part 
of  the  city,  and  Westminster  especially,  would  be  de- 
stroyed by  an  earthquake  on  the  4th  instant,  between 
twelve  and  one  at  night.  The  whole  city  was  under 
direful  apprehensions.  Places  of  worship  were  crowded 
with  frightened  sinners,  especially  our  two  chapels,  and 
the  tabernacle,  where  Mr.  Whitefield  preached.  Several 
of  the  classes  came  to  their  leaders,  and  desired  that 
they  would  spend  the  night  with  them  in  prayer  ;  which 
was  done,  and  God  gave  them  a  blessing.  Indeed  all 
around  was  awful.  Being  not  at  all  convinced  of  the 
prophet's  mission,  and  having  no  call  from  any  of  my 
brethren,  I  went  to  bed  at  my  usual  time,  believing  I 
was  safe  in  the  hands  of  Christ ;  and  likewise,  that,  by 
doing  so,  I  should  be  the  more  ready  to  rise  to  the 
preaching  in  the  morning ;  which  I  did,  praise  be  to 
my  kind  protector. 

*****  **** 

"  Though  crowds  left  the  town  on  Wednesday  night, 
yet  crowds  were  left  behind  ;  multitudes  of  whom,  for 
fear  of  being  suddenly  overwhelmed,  left  their  houses, 
and  repaired  to  the  fields,  and  open  places  in  the  city. 
Tower  Hill,  Moorfields,  but  above  all,  Hyde  Park,  were 
filled  the  best  part  of  the  night,  with  men,  women,  and 


112  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

children,  lamenting.  Some,  with  stronger  imaginations 
than  others,  mostly  women,  ran  crying  in  the  streets, 
'  An  earthquake  !  an  earthquake  !'  Such  distress,  per- 
haps, is  not  recorded  to  have  happened  before  in  this 
careless  city.  Mr.  Whitefield  preached  at  midnight  in 
Hyde  Park.  Surely  God  will  visit  this  city  ;  it  will  be 
a  time  of  mercy  to  some.  Oh  may  I  be  found  watch- 
ing!" 

An  incident  occurred  at  this  time  which  we  have  fre- 
quently called  to  mind  as  a  very  impressive  illustration 
of  what  is  termed  the  majesty  of  faith.  The  second 
shock  of  the  earthquake  occurred  on  the  morning  of  the 
8th  of  March.  At  an  early  hour.  Rev.  Charles  Wesley 
appeared  before  a  great  audience  who  had  assembled  at 
the  foundry  to  listen  to  a  morning  discourse.  He  was 
about  to  begin  his  sermon,  when  a  subterranean  thunder- 
ing was  heard  and  the  whole  city  began  to  shake  and 
totter.  The  foundry  reeled  to  and  fro  and  seemed  every 
moment  about  to  fall.  The  worshippers  shrieked,  and 
each  one  felt  that  his  hour  had  come.  The  soul  of  the 
preacher  at  this  critical  juncture  seemed  touched  with  an 
inspiration  as  from  on  high.  With  a  face  glowing  with 
triumph,  and  an  eye  flashing  as  with  ethereal  fire,  he 
raised  his  hands  and  uttered  the  sublinffe  language  of  the 
Psalmist :  "  Therefore  we  will  not  fear,  though  the  earth 
be  removed,  and  the  mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst  of 
the  sea.  The  Lord  of  hosts  is  with  us,  the  God  of  Jacob 
is  our  refuge  !" 

The  entry  in  his  journal  for  that  date  was  as  fol- 
lows : 


HISTORICAL  AXD  PERSONAL.  113 

"  March  8,  1750.  This  morning,  a  quarter  after  five, 
we  had  another  shock  of  an  earthquake  far  more  violent 
than  that  of  February  8.  I  was  just  repeating  my  text, 
when  it  shook  the  foundry  so  violently,  that  we  all  ex- 
pected it  to  fall  on  our  heads.  A  great  cry  followed 
from  the  women  and  children.  I  immediately  called 
out,  '  Therefore  we  will  not  fear,  though  the  earth  be 
moved,  and  the  mountains  be  carried  into  the  midst  of  the 
sea.  The  Lord  of  hosts  is  with  us,  the  God  of  Jacob  is 
our  refuge.'  He  filled  my  heart  with  faith,  and  my  mouth 
with  words,  shaking  their  souls  as  well  as  their  bodies. 
The  earth  moved  westward,  then  eastward,  then  westward 
again,  through  all  London  and  Westminster.  It  was  a 
strong  and  jarring  motion,  attended  with  a  rumbling 
noise  like  that  of  thunder." 

The  faith  that  could  stand  unmoved  at  such  an  hour 
would  triumph  amid  the  wreck  of  matter  and  the  crush 
of  worlds. 

This  anecdote  of  the  zealous  preacher  seems  to  us 
interesting  for  the  information  it  imparts.  It  gives  us  a 
certain  feeling  of  confidence  when  singing  the  lyrics  of 
Dr.  Watts,  to  recall  that  he  himself  felt  all  of  those  sweet 
consolations  of  which  he  so  fervently  wrote.  Charles 
Wesley  composed  very  numerous  hymns  on  the  tri- 
umphs of  faith,  a  number  of  which  are  to  be  found  in 
almost  every  work  of  psalmody.  It  is  edifying  to  know 
that  he  himself  was  an  example  of  that  all-conquering 
faith  to  which  he  devoted  his  pen. 

He  thus  alludes  to  the  events  v;e  have  described  in 
some  lines  written  iii  1755. 

10* 


114  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

How  happy  are  the  little  flock, 

Who,  safe  beneath  their  guardian-rock 

In  all  commotions  rest ! 
When  war's  and  tumult's  waves  run  high, 
Unmoved,  above  the  storm  they  lie, 

They  lodge  in  Jesus'  breast. 

The  plague,  the  dearth,  the  din  of  war. 
Our  Saviour's  swift  approach  declare. 

And  bid  our  hearts  arise ; 
Earth's  basis  shook  confirms  our  hope  ; 
Its  cities'  fall  but  lifts  us  up 

To  meet  him  in  the  skies. 

The  tokens  we  with  joy  confess  : 

The  war  proclaims  the  Prince  of  Peace, 

The  earthquake  speaks  his  power, 
The  famine  all  his  fulness  brings ; 
The  plague  presents  his  healing  wings. 

And  nature's  final  hour. 

Whatever  ills  the  world  befall 
A  pledge  of  endless  good  we  call, 

A  sign  of  Jesus  near ; 
His  chariot  will  not  long  delay ; 
We  hear  the  rumbling  wheels,  and  pray — 

Triumphant  Lord,  appear ! 


LANGHORN'S  ''IT  IS  TOLD  ME  I  MUST  DIE.'' 

Fragments  of  a  somewhat  remarkable  poem  have 
been  for  a  long  period  floating  about  in  literature,  and 
inquiries  have  frequently  been  made  in  regard  to  their 
authorship  and  origin.  One  of  these  fragments  is  enti- 
tled, "  It  is  told  me  I  must  die." 


HISTORICAL  AND  PRRSONAL.  115 

In  order  to  understand  the  poem,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  review  a  somewhat  tragic  chapter  of  English  history, 
known  as  the  Popish  Plot. 

This  popular  madness  was  incited  partly  by  the  in- 
trigues of  Rome,  and  a  remembrance  of  papal  persecu- 
tions in  the  past,  and  partly  by  one  of  the  most  corrupt 
and  infamous  men  on  record,  Titus  Oates.  He  was 
born  in  1620,  was  educated  at  Cambridge,  took  orders, 
but  soon  lost  his  curacies  by  lying,  perjury,  and  gross 
misbehavior.  He  received  an  appointment  as  chaplain 
in  the  navy,  but  was  dismissed  for  disgraceful  conduct. 
He  then  became  a  Catholic,  went  to  Spain,  but  was 
shortly  expelled  by  the  Jesuits. 

In  September,  1667,  he  made  a  disclosure  before  Sir 
Edward  Godfrey,  a  noted  justice,  and  afterwards  before 
the  Council  and  the  House  of  Commons,  to  the  effect 
that  the  Catholics  had  entered  into  a  conspiracy  against 
the  life  of  the  king,  in  order  to  reestablish  the  papal  power 
in  England.  Lord  Arundel,  he  said,  was  to  be  chancel- 
lor of  the  new  government ;  Lord  Powis,  treasurer ; 
Lord  Bellasis,  general  of  the  papal  army,  and  Coleman, 
secretary  of  state.  The  office  of  advocate-general  he 
assigned  to  Richard  Langhorn,  the  subject  of  this  paper. 

All  England  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  intense  ex- 
citement by  this  disclosure,  and  the  fame  of  Titus  Oates 
flashed  forth  to  blaze  "  the  comet  of  a  season."  "  The 
capital  and  the  whole  nation,"  says  Macaulay,  "went 
mad  with  hatred  and  fear.  London  had  the  aspect  of  a 
city  in  a  state  of  siege.  Patrols  marched  up  and  down 
the  streets.      Cannon  were  planted   around   Whitehall, 


ii6  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

No  citizen  thought  himself  safe  unless  he  carried  under 
his  coat  a  small  flail,  loaded  with  lead,  to  brain  the  assas- 
sins." Oates  rose  from  beggary  to  sudden  wealth,  and 
assumed  a  grandeur  of  living  becoming  a  prince.  He 
went  around  with  a  retinue  of  guards.  He  received  an 
ample  pension,  and  was  assigned  lodgings  at  Whitehall. 
He  put  on  the  Episcopal  gown  and  cassock,  and  claimed 
and  received  the  title  of  the  "  Saviour  of  the  Nation." 
"Whoever  he  pointed  at,"  says  Roger  North,  "was  taken 
up  and  committed."  He  had  the  nation  in  his  hands, 
and  for  weeks  of  popular  blindness,  excitement  and  prej- 
udice, he  exercised  an  even  greater  influence  than  the 
king.     He  was  the  real  sovereign  of  the  English  nation. 

The  state  trials  growing  out  of  the  so-Called  Popish 
Plot,  are  among  the  most  interesting  in  history.  Among 
these,  with  the  exception  of  that  of  Lord  Stafford,  none 
are  more  interesting  than  that  of  Richard  Langhorn. 
It  took  place  on  the  14th  of  June,  1679,  S-^i*^'  although 
the  testimony  of  Oates  was  again  and  again  proven  false, 
Langhorn's  case  was  -prejudged ;  he  was  convicted  of 
high  treason,  and  sentenced  to  be  executed. 

Langhorn,  though  by  birth  and  education  a  Catholic, 
was  a  man  of  moderate  views  and  deep  spiritual  feelings. 
Few  men  were  ever  more  unjustly  accused  or  more 
hastily  condemned. 

It  was  midsummer,  a  calm  July  day,  and  a  great  con- 
course of  people  came  together  to  see  Richard  Langhorn 
hung.  He  ascended  the  scaffold  as  one  would  go  to  a 
coronation.  With  a  bearing  which  told  that  every  word 
he  uttered  was  true,  he  said,  "  T  do  declare,  in  the  pres- 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  117 

ence  of  the  eternal  God,  and  as  I  hope  to  be  saved  by 
the  merits  of  my  dear  Jesus,  that  I  am  not  guilty,  direct- 
ly or  indirectly,  of  any  crime  that  has  been  sworn  against 
me.''  He  declared  further  that  the  testimony  of  Mr. 
Gates  against  him  was  wholly  false,  and  that  he  forgave 
him  with  his  dying  breath,  and  hoped  that  God  would 
bring  him  to  repentance.  He  prayed  for  the  king,  the 
nation,  and  for  all  his  enemies  and  false  accusers.  He 
forgave  the  sheriff  after  the  rope  had  been  adjusted. 
His  last  prayer  and  last  words  were,  "  Blessed  Jesus, 
into  thy  hands  I  recommend  my  soul  and  spirit,  now,  at 
this  instant.  Take  me  into  paradise."  He  added,  "  I 
am  desirous  to  be  with  my  Jesus.  I  am  ready,  and  you 
need  stop  no  longer  for  me." 

Langhorn  desired  to  be  left  entirely  by  himself  in  his 
last  days,  that  he  might  give  his  time  to  meditation,  wri- 
ting, and  acts  of  devotion.  These  days  were  passed  on 
the  heavenly  border.  The  glory  of  the  celestial  world 
seemed  already  shining  about  him.  His  soul  was  im- 
mersed in  the  love  of  God. 

It  was  thus  in  the  solitude  of  his  cell  that  he  com- 
posed the  irregular  poem  to  which  we  have  alluded.  It 
is  a  most  triumphant  witness  to  the  all-conquering  power 
of  the  Christian  faith.     It  is  as  follows : 

IT  IS  TOLD  ME  I  MUST  DIE. 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die. 
Oh,  happy  news ! 
Come  on,  my  dearest  soul, 
Behold  thy  Jesus  calls  thee. 
He  prayed  for  thee  upon  his  cross. 


ii8  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

There  he  extended  his  arms  to  receive  thee, 
There  he  bowed  down  his  head  to  kiss  thee, 
There  he  cried  out  with  a  powerful  voice, 
"  Father,  receive  him,  he  is  mine  !" 
There  he  opened  his  heart  to  give  thee  entrance, 
There  he  gave  up  his  life  to  purchase  life  for  thee ! 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die. 

Oh  blessed  news ! 
I  must  quit 

Earth  for  heaven, 

My  earthly  prison  for  a  liberty  of  joy; 

My  banishment  for  my  country 
Prepared  for  me. 
I  must  pass 

From  time  to  eternity; 

From  misery  to  felicity; 

From  change  to  immutability; 

From  death  to  immortality. 
I  must  leave  what  I  possess  on  earth, 

To  possess  my  God ; 
To  enjoy  my  Jesus ; 

To  converse  with  angels  and  saints. 
I  must  go  to  fill 

My  spirit  with  a  plenitude  of  light ; 

My  will  with  a  fulness  of  peace  ; 

My  memory  with  a  collection  of  all  good ; 

My  senses  with  a  satiety  of  pleasures. 
I  must  go  where  I  shall  find 

All  things  which  I  can  desire. 

Nothing  that  I  fear. 
I  shall  no  more  want  any  good ; 

God  shall  be  unto  me  all  in  all, 

And  my  all  to  all  eternity. 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die. 
Oh  what  happiness ! 


HISTORICAL  AND  PERSONAL.  119 

I  am  going 
To  the  place  of  my  rest ; 
To  the  land  of  the  living ; 
To  the  haven  of  security ; 
To  the  kingdom  of  peace  ; 
To  the  palace  of  my  God ; 
To  the  nuptials  of  the  Lamb ; 
To  sit  at  the  table  of  my  King; 
To  feed  on  the  bread  of  angels  ; 
To  see  what  no  eye  hath  seen ; 
To  hear  what  no  ear  hath  heard ; 
To  enjoy  what  the  heart  of  man  cannot  comprehend. 

It  is  told  me  I  must  die. 

Oh  news  of  joy  ! 
Let  us  go,  my  soul,  I  am  content ; 

I  joyfully  renounce  this  life, 
And  render  it  back  to  Him  who  gave  it  me. 
I  am  willing  to  die 

For  his  glory, 

For  his  love. 

Out  of  gratitude  for  his  favors, 

And  to  satisfy  his  justice. 
I  am  willing  to  die  for  him  as  he  died  for  me : 
•   I  am  willing  to  die, 

To  see  my  Jesus, 

To  love  my  Jesus, 

To  bless  my  Jesus, 
And  to  sing  his  praises  to  all  eternity. 
Come  on,  my  soul,  let  us  go  and  rejoice. 

He  who  by  his  grace 

Hath  enabled  thee  to  know 

Thy  own  miseries, 

And  his  mercies. 
He  who  hath  enabled  thee 

To  rely  on  him, 
Comrnands  thee  to  shake  off  all  fear. 


I20  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

It  is  not  for  anything  in  thee 

That  he  loves  thee  and  will  save  thee. 

He  doth  it  because  he  is  God, 

Perfect  love  and  perfect  goodness. 
Oh  my  Father, 
Oh  thou  best  of  all  fathers. 
Have  pity  on  the  most  wretched  of  all  thy  children. 
I  was  lost,  but  by  thy  mercy  found ; 
I  was  dead,  but  by  thy  mercy  raised  again. 
I  was  gone  astray  after  vanity. 
But  am  now  ready  to  appear  before  thee. 

Oh  my  Father, 
Come  now  in  mercy  receive  thy  child : 
Give  him  thy  kiss  of  peace  ; 
Remit  unto  him  all  his  sins ; 
Clothe  him  with  thy  nuptial  robe ; 
Receive  him  into  thy  house  ; 
Permit  him  to  have  a  place  at  thy  feast, 
And  forgive  all  those  who  are  guilty  of  his  death. 

The  name  of  Langhorn  well  deserves  a  place  among 
those  worthies  who,  although  associated  by  the  influ- 
ences of  birth,  education,  and  the  force  of  circumstances 
with  a  corrupt  church,  have  so  fully  relied  on  Christ  as 
to  keep  their  spiritual  perceptions  undimmed.  "  Thou 
hast  a  few  names  even  in  Sardis,  which  have  not  defiled 
their  garments :  and  they  shall  walk  with  me  in  white ; 
for  they  are  worthy." 


III.  SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE. 


1.  LORD,  DISMISS  US  WITH  THY  BLESSING. 

2.  PEACE,   TROUBLED  SOUL 

3.  SWEET  THE  MOMENTS  RICH  IN  BLESSING. 

4.  WATCHMAN   TELL  US  OF  THE  NIGHT. 

5.  WHILE  THEE  I  SEEK,  PROTECTING  POWER. 

6.  HARK,  THE  VOICE  OF  LOVE  AND  MERCY. 

7.  WHEN  MARSHALLED  ON  THE  NIGHTL  Y  PLAIN. 

8.  WHILE  WITH  CEASELESS  COURSE  THE  SUN. 

9.  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN-TOP  APPEARING. 

10.  IF  I  MUST  DIE,  OH,  LET  ME  DIE    TRUSTING  IN 

JESUS'  BLOOD. 

11,  AWAKE  MY  SOUL,  IN  JOYFUL  LAYS. 


11 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE. 


''SWEET  THE  MOMENTS,  RICH  IN  BLESSINGS 
The  personal  history  of  few  writers  of  popular  hymns 
is  so  little  known  at  the  present  time,  as  that  of  Sir 
Walter  Shirley,  author  of  "Sweet  the  moments,  rich 
in  blessing,"  "  Peace,  troubled  soul,  whose  plaintive 
moan,"'  and  "Lord,  dismiss  us  with  thy  blessing." 
And  yet  the  lives  of  few  hymn-writers  abound  with 
more  impressive  and  highly  interesting  incidents.  Shir- 
ley wrote  but  few  hymns,  but  these  have  a  popularity 
commensurate  with  their  merits,  and  seem  likely  to  prove 
enduring.  With  the  single  exception  of  Bishop  Ken's 
"  Doxology,"  and  Perronet's  "  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus' 
name,"  no  hymn  is  more  universally  used  in  public  ser- 
vice than  the  following : 

Lord,  dismiss  us  with  thy  blessing, 
Fill  our  hearts  with  joy  and  peace ; 

Let  us  each,  thy  love  possessing, 
Triumph  in  redeeming  grace  : 

Oh  refresh  us, 
Travelling  through  this  wilderness. 

Thanks  we  give,  and  adoration, 

For  thy  gospel's  joyful  sound ; 
May  the  fruits  of  thy  salvation 

In  our  hearts  and  lives  abound  ; 
May  thy  presence 

With  us  evermore  be  found. 


124  I^HE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Then,  whene'er  the  signal 's  given 

Us  from  earth  to  call  awa}-, 
Borne  on  angels'  wings  to  heaven — 

Glad  the  summons  to  obey — 
May  we  ever 

Reign  with  Christ  in  endless  Az.y. 

The  Hon.  and  Rev.  Walter  Shirley  was  born  in  the 
year  1725.  He  was  brother  to  Earl  Ferrars,  and  first 
cousin  of  Selina,  Countess  of  Fluntingdon.  He  was  a 
frequent  visitor  to  Lady  Huntingdon's  London  residence, 
and  there  became  acquainted  with  the  Calvinist  Metho- 
dist preachers.  He  was  converted  under  the  ministry  of 
Mr.  Venn,  became  intimate  with  Whitefield,  took  orders, 
and  began  to  preach  in  the  Church  of  England.  After 
preaching  with  great  success  in  his  native  country,  he 
received  the  living  of  Loughrea,  Ireland,  where  he  con- 
tinued to  exercise  his  ministry  for  many  years. 

In  the  year  1760  he  was  called  to  endure  severe  dis- 
cipline, which  had  the  effect  of  making  him  deeply  hum- 
ble. While  Sir  Walter  had  been  receiving  the  truths  of 
the  gospel,  and  growing  in  Christian  graces,  his  brother, 
Earl  Ferrars,  had  been  leading  a  most  worldly  and  licen- 
tious life,  which,  after  years  of  secret  dishonor,  ended  in 
public  shame.  In  the  year  mentioned  he  became  greatly 
incensed  with  a  Mr.  Johnson,  his  steward,  who  had  been 
a  servant  in  the  family  for  thirty  years,  and  who  had 
shown  a  good  disposition  towards  Lady  Ferrars  in  her 
case  against  a  favorite  mistress  of  the  nobleman.  The 
details  of  the  whole  case  are  too  unprofitable  for  recital ; 
but  the  earl  finding  his  old  servant  fearlessly  devoted  to 
his  duty,  deliberately  shot  him,  and  made  no  concealment 


SOJVGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  125 

of  the  deed.  The  murder  proved  a  shock  to  Enghsh 
society.  The  earl  was  arrested  and  lodged  in  the  Tower 
of  London,  He  was  brought  to  trial  in  Westminster, 
on  which  occasion,  according  to  Charles  Wesley,  "  most 
of  the  royal  family,  the  chief  gentry,  and  foreign  minis- 
ters were  present."  After  three  days'  sitting,  the  court 
sentenced  the  earl  to  be  hanged  at  Tyburn,  and  "  his 
body  to  be  delivered  to  Surgeons'  Hall  to  be  dissected 
and  anatomized." 

The  distress  of  Walter  Shirley,  Lady  Huntingdon, 
and  other  pious  relatives  of  the  doomed  earl,  was  ex- 
treme. The  whole  English  church,  and  especially  the 
then  portion  of  it  known  as  the  Methodists,  deeply  sym- 
pathized with  Walter  Shirley.  The  conduct  of  the  high- 
born convict  now  gave  a  still  darker  aspect  and  more 
heartrending  associations  to  the  crime.  He  resolved  to 
die  as  hardened  as  he  had  lived. 

Walter  Shirley  left  his  humble  parish  in  Ireland  and 
hastened  to  England,  and,  with  Lady  Huntingdon,  did 
everything  in  his  power  to  bring  his  brother  to  repent- 
ance and  the  exercise  of  religious  faith,  but  without  suc- 
cess. The  religious  society  of  London  was  deeply 
affected ;  prayers  were  offered  up  for  the  earl  in  the 
churches,  and  the  Methodist  societies  spent  a  day  in 
fasting  and  prayer  for  the  unhappy  nobleman's  conver- 
sion. But  all  was  of  no  avail.  He  spent  the  night  be- 
fore his  execution  in  playing  piquet  with  the  warden  of 
the  prison.  Just  before  leaving  his  cell  on  the  fatal 
day,  he  wrote  the  following  lines,  which  he  left  on  the 
table :  jj* 


126  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  In  doubt  I  lived,  in  doubt  I  die, 
Yet  stand  prepared  the  vast  abyss  to  try, 
And  undismayed  expect  eternity." 

He  went  to  Tyburn  amid  the  tears  of  his  friends  and 
the  derision  of  immense  crowds  of  people.  He  dressed 
himself  for  execution  in  his  wedding  clothes,  and  received 
a  note  in  his  carriage  from  the  wretched  woman  who  had 
occasioned  all  this  misery. 

Sir  Walter  returned  to  his  little  flock  in  Loughrea  a 
broken-spirited  man.  Three  weeks  after  the  execution 
he  wrote  to  Mr.  John  Wesley  as  follows:  "  I  have  reason 
to  bless  God  for  the  humbling  lessons  he  has  taught  me 
through  these  awful  visitations."  It  is  probable  that 
family  misfortune  was  the  source  of  the  inspiration  of 
his  well-known  hymn  : 

Peace,  troubled  soul,  whose  plaintive  moan 
Hath  taught  these  rocks  the  notes  of  woe; 

Cease  thy  complaint — suppress  thy  groan, 
And  let  thy  tears  forget  to  flow ; 

Behold  the  precious  balm  is  found, 

To  lull  thy  pain,  to  heal  thy  v>-ound. 

Come,  freely  come,  by  sin  oppressed, 

Unburden  here  thy  weighty  load  ; 
Here  find  thy  refuge  and  thy  rest, 

And  trust  the  mercy  of  thy  God  : 
Thy  God  's  thy  Saviour — glorious  word  ! 
For  ever  love  and  praise  the  Lord. 

Shirley  opposed  Wesley  in  forming  societies  outside 
of  the  Established  Church.  "I  have  hitherto  learned  to 
consider  the  Methodists,"  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Wesley,  "  not 
as  any  sect,  but  as  a  purer  part  of  the  Church  of  Eng- 


SO.VGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  127 

land."  In  the  great  religious  controversy  between  the 
Arminian  and  Calvinist  Methodists,  Shirley  sympathized 
with  the  views  of  Whitefield  and  Lady  Huntingdon. 

He  greatly  loved  his  little  parish  in  Ireland,  and  was 
influenced  with  warm  zeal  for  the  conversion  of  souls. 
His  piety  and  humility  grew  with  advancing  years,  and 
he  fully  felt  the  power  of  the  experience  which  he  has  so 
delightfully  sung: 

Sweet  the  moments,  rich  in  blessing, 

Which  before  the  cross  I  spend, 
Life,  and  health,  and  peace  possessing 

From  the  sinner's  dying  Friend. 

Here  I  rest,  for  ever  viewing 

Mercy  poured  in  streams  of  blood  ; 
Precious  drops,  my  soul  bedewing, 

Plead  and  claim  my  peace  with  God. 

Truly  blessed  is  the  station. 

Low  before  his  cross  to  lie. 
While  I  see  divine  compassion 

Beaming  in  his  languid  eye. 

Lord,  in  ceaseless  contemplation 

Fix  my  thankful  heart  on  thee, 
Till  I  taste  thy  full  salvation. 

And  thine  unveiled  glory  see. 

This  beautiful  hymn  is  said  to  have  been  suggested 
by  a  religious  poem  written  by  James  Allen,  a  local  poet, 
which  begins,  "  While  my  Jesus  I  'm  possessing." 

His  last  days  were  serene  and  peaceful,  and  he  wit- 
nessed to  the  end  the  power  of  Christian  consolations. 
His  sickness  was  protracted.     When  no  longer  able  to 


128  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

leave  the  house,  he  was  unwilling  to  cease  preaching. 
The  old  man  used  to  send  for  his  neighbors,  and,  sitting 
in  his  chair  in  his  own  house,  used  to  preach  to  as  many 
as  could  hear  him.     He  died  in  17S6. 

His  hymns  are  marked  "Episcopal  Collection"  in 
some  of  the  most  widely  used  hymn-books.  In  several 
denominational,  collections  of  hymns,  his  hymn  begin- 
ning, "  Lord,  dismiss  us  with  thy  blessing,"  is  attributed 
to  Burder.  It  appeared  originally  in  Harris'  collection  of 
hymns.  The  last  lines  of  the  second  verse  in  the  origi- 
nal are, 

"  Ever  faithful 
To  thy  truth  may  we  be  found." 


«  WATCHMAN,  TELL  US  OF  THE  NIGHT?' 

Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  night, 

What  its  signs  of  promise  are. 
Trav'ler,  o'er  yon  mountain's  height 

See  the  glory-beaming  star. 
Watchman,  does  its  beauteous  ray 

Aught  of  hope  or  joy  foretell  ? 
Trav'ler,  yes,  it  brings  the  day — 

Promised  day  of  Israel. 

Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  night; 

Higher  yet  that  star  ascends. 
Trav'ler,  blessedness  and  light, 

Peace  and  truth,  its  course  portends. 
Watchman,  will  its  beams,  alone. 

Gild  the  spot  that  gave  them  birth  1 
Trav'ler,  ages  are  its  own  ; 

See,  it  bursts  o'er  all  the  earth. 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  129 

Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  night, 

For  the  morning  seems  to  dawn. 
Traveler,  darkness  takes  its  flight ; 

Doubt  and  terror  are  withdrawn. 
Watchman,  let  thy  wandering  cease ; 

Hie  thee  to  thy  quiet  home. 
Trav'ler,  lo  !  the  Prince  of  Peace. 

Lo !  the  Son  of  God  is  come. 

This  hymn  was  written  by  Sir  John  Bowring  in 
1825.  Mr.  Bowring  seems  to  have  been  an  almost  pro- 
phetic poet,  and,  Hke  Isaiah,  to  have  had  continually  in 
view  the  spiritual  victories  that  are  to  fill  the  world  with 
righteousness.  In  every  high  position  he  took  with 
him  a  hopeful,  luminous  Christian  experience,  and  ever 
seemed  like  a  watchman  on  the  walls  of  Zion,  who 
sooner  than  others  saw  and  heralded  the  first  beams  of 
the  full-orbed  and  glorious  gospel  day. 

He  was  born  in  Exeter  in  1792.  He  was  a  preco- 
cious youth,  and  possessed  a  remarkable  power  in  acqui- 
ring the  languages.  He  became  highly  accomplished, 
was  elected  to  Parliament,  was  appointed  consul  at  Can- 
ton, made  governor  of*  Hong  Kong,  and  received  the 
honor  of  knighthood.  His  Christian  experience,  and 
his  hopes  and  expectations  of  the  spread  of  the  gospel 
over  the  whole  world,  are  beautifully  portrayed  in  his 
"  Matins  and  Vespers."' 

"  WHILE  THEE  I  SEEK,  PROTECTING  POWER:' 

While  thee  I  seek,  protecting  Power, 

Be  my  vain  wishes  stilled  ; 
And  may  this  consecrated  hour  ' 

With  better  hopes  be  filled. 


130  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Thy  love  the  power  of  thought  bestowed ; 

To  thee  my  thoughts  would  soar : 
Thy  mercy  o'er  my  life  has  flowed ; 

That  mercy  I  adore. 

In  each  event  of  life,  how  clear 

Thy  ruling  hand  I  see  ; 
Each  blessing  to  my  soul  most  dear, 

Because  conferred  by  thee. 

In  every  joy  that  crowns  my  days, 

In  every  pain  I  bear, 
My  heart  shall  find  delight  in  praise, 

Or  seek  relief  in  prayer. 

When  gladness  wings  my  favored  hour 

Thy  love  my  thoughts  shall  fill ; 
Resigned  when  storms  of  sorrow  lower, 

My  soul  shall  meet  thy  will. 

My  lifted  eye,  without  a  tear, 

The  gathering  storm  shall  see : 
My  steadfast  heart  shall  know  no  fear; 

That  heart  will  rest  on  thee. 

Some  expressions  of  this  hymn  have  indirect  reference 
to  the  stormy  scenes  in  France  about  the  time  of  the  Rev- 
olution. It  was  written  in  France  when  the  political 
sky  was  very  dark  and  threatening,  and  no  one  felt 
secure.  Its  author  was  Miss  Helen  Maria  Williams. 
She  was  born  in  the  North  of  England  in  1762.  She 
went  to  London  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  where  she  won 
much  reputation  as  a  poet.  She  afterwards  went  to 
Paris,  where  she  lived  during  the  breaking  up  of  the 
monarchy,  and  where  she  published  works  in  prose  and 
verse.     She  was  a  very  devout  woman,  and  relied  on  the 


SO.VGS  AY  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  131 

strong  arm  of  God  at  the  time  of  peril.     She  held  a  high 
place  in  religious  society,  both  in  London  and  Paris. 


''HARK!  THE  VOICE  OF  LOVE  AND  MERCY." 

Hark  !  the  voice  of  love  and  mercy 

Sounds  aloud  from  Calvary ; 
See  !  it  rends  the  rocks  asunder, 

Shakes  the  earth,  and  veils  the  sky ; 
"  It  is  finished  !" 

Hear  the  dying  Saviour  cry. 

It  is  finished  !  Oh  what  pleasure 

Do  these  charming  words  afford  ! 
Heavenly  blessings  without  measure 

Flow  to  us  from  Christ  the  Lord : 
It  is  finished : 

Saints,  the  dying  words  record. 

Tune  your  harps  anew,  ye  seraphs 

Join  to  sing  the  pleasing  theme  ; 
All  on  earth  and  all  in  heaven 

Join  to  praise  Immanuel's  name  ; 
It  is  finished : 

Glory  to  the  bleeding  Lamb. 

This  hymn  is  the  fruit  of  a  remarkable  Christian  ex- 
perience ;  a  grateful  expression  of  a  sense  of  the  great- 
ness of  God's  mercy,  and  the  extent  of  the  atonement 
which  the  writer  had  occasion  to  feel.  It  was  written 
by  Jonathan  Evans  about  the  year  1787,  and  appeared 
in  "  Rippon  s  Selection,"  under  the  title  of  "  Finished 
Redemption." 

Mr.  Evans  was  in  early  life  a  very  irreligious  man. 
He  was  employed  in  a  ribbon  factory,  and  led  a  very 


132  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

profitless  and  unpromising  life,  until  he  was  nearly  thirty 
years  of  age,  when  he  became  converted,  and  joined  the 
Congregationalists.  Soon  after  his  conversion  he  began 
to  speak  of  God's  dealings  with  him,  in  public,  preach- 
ing at  such  times  as  his  secular  employments  permitted. 
He  at  last  gathered  around  him  a  church  and  began  a 
stated  ministry. 


''WHEN,  MARSHALLED  ON  THE  NLGHTLY  PLAIN: 

Henry  Kirke  White  was  born  at  Nottingham,  Eng- 
land, 1785.  His  father  was  a  butcher  in  very  humble 
circumstances.  At  the  age  of  fourteen  he  became  a 
weaver's  apprentice,  and  two  years  later  he  was  articled 
to  an  attorney. 

His  religious  experience  is  interesting.  He  had  an 
intimate  friend  in  youth,  named  Almond.  White  was  a 
skeptic,  and  used  to  ridicule  religion  and  religious  things  ; 
while  Almond's  heart  was  open  to  conviction  ;  he  seemed 
anxious  to  know  the  truth  and  to  practise  it. 

One  day  Almond  was  called  to  the  bedside  of  a  dying 
believer,  who  passed  away  in  great  peace,  consoled  by  a 
triumphant  faith.  He  was  fully  convinced  of  the  truth 
of  religion  by  the  impressive  scene,  and  resolved  to  be- 
come a  Christian.  But  he  shrunk  from  making  known 
his  convictions  through  fear  of  the  ridicule  of  White. 

His  mind  for  a  time  was  greatly  agitated  and  divided, 
but  he  at  last  made  the  resolution  to  give  up  the  society 
of  his  friend,  should  it  be  necessary,  and  to  avow  himself 
a  beHever  in  Christ. 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  133 

White  felt  the  neglect  of  his  friend  keenly,  and  went 
to  him  in  an  injured  way,  and  inquired  the  cause.  Al- 
mond confessed  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in  his 
views,  and  announced  his  purpose  of  leading  a  different 
life.  The  answer,  of  course,  implied  that  his  friend  was 
unworthy  the  confidence  of  one  who  aimed  to  live  pi- 
ously.   White  saw  it  in  this  light,  and  was  cut  to  the  quick. 

"  Good  God,  Almond !"  exclaimed  the  conscience- 
smitten  skeptic,  "  you  surely  regard  me  in  a  worse  light 
than  I  deserve." 

The  interview  melted  the  heart  of  White,  and  he,  too, 
became  an  inquirer  after  truth,  embraced  religion,  and 
the  two  youths  renewed  their  friendship  with  warmer 
feelings  and  more  elevated  aims. 

This  experience  White  relates  metaphorically  in  his 
familiar  hymn  which  follows : 

When,  marshalled  on  the  nightly  plain, 

The  glittering  host  bestud  the  sky, 
One  star  alone  of  all  the  train 

Can  fix  the  sinner's  wandering  eye. 
Hark,  hark !  to  God  the  chorus  breaks, 

From  every  host,  from  every  gem  ; 
But  one  alone  the  Saviour  speaks ; 

It  is  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 

Once  on  the  raging  seas  I  rode  : 

The  storm  was  loud,  the  night  was  dark ; 
The  ocean  yawned,  and  rudely  blowed 

The  wind  that  tossed  my  foundering  bark. 
Deep  horror  then  my  vitals  froze, 

Death-struck,  I  ceased  the  tide  to  stem, 
When  suddenly  a  star  arose,  ' 

It  v.'as  the  Star  of  Bethlehem. 
12 


134  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

It  was  my  guide,  my  light,  my  all, 

It  bade  my  dark  forebodings  cease  ; 
And  through  the  storm  and  danger's  thrall, 

It  led  me  to  the  port  of  peace. 
Now,  safely  moored,  my  perils  o'er, 

I  '11  sing,  first  in  night's  diadem, 
For  ever  and  for  evermore, 

The  Star,  the  Star  of  Bethlehem  ! 

White  now  turned  his  purpose  of  Hfe  to  the  ministry, 
and  prepared  himself  for  Cambridge  by  severe  study. 
At  college  his  health  gave  way  under  the  severity  of  his 
application,  and  he  died  in  the  autumn  of  1806,  at  the 
age  of  twenty. 


''WHILE  WITH  CEASELESS  COURSE  THE  SUN:* 

While  with  ceaseless  course  the  sun 

Hasted  through  the  former  year. 
Many  souls  their  race  have  run, 

Never  more  to  meet  us  here  : 
Fixed  in  an  eternal  state, 

They  have  done  with  all  below ; 
We  a  little  longer  wait. 

But  how  little — none  can  know. 

As  the  winged  arrow  flies 

Speedily  the  mark  to  find, 
As  the  lightning  from  the  skies 

Darts  and  leaves  no  trace  behind, 
Swiftly  thus  our  fleeting  days 

Bear  us  down  life's  rapid  stream; 
Upward,  Lord,  our  spirits  raise : 

All  below  is  but  a  dream. 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  135 

Thanks  for  mercies  past  receive, 

Pardon  of  our  sins  renew ; 
Teach  us  henceforth  how  to  live 

With  eternity  in  view. 
Bless  thy  word  to  young  and  old ; 

Fill  us  with  a  Saviour's  love  ; 
And,  when  life's  short  tale  is  told, 

May  we  dwell  with  thee  above. 

This  hymn  was  written  by  the  Rev.  John  Newton,  for 
the  "  Olney  Hymns."  Mr.  Newton  calls  his  hymns  "  The 
fruit  and  expression  of  his  own  experience."  The  allu- 
sion in  the  first  stanza  of  the  hymn  has  reference  to  the 
changes  that  had  taken  place  in  his  own  parish  at  Olney, 
where  he  was,  at  the  time  of  the  writing,  a  very  active 
and  sympathizing  curate. 


"  ON  THE  MOUNTAIN-TOP  APPEARING:' 

Thomas  Kelly,  an  admired  hymn-writer  and  an  ex- 
cellent and  useful  clergyman,  was  the  son  of  the  Hon. 
Chief  Baron  Kelly  of  Dublin,  and  was  born  in  1769.  He 
was  educated  in  Dublin  University,  and  was  partly  pre- 
pared to  enter  the  profession  of  law,  when  he  became 
deeply  impressed  with  the  instability  of  worldly  things 
and  the  magnitude  of  spiritual  riches,  and  decided  to 
enter  the  ministry.  He  was  ordained  in  the  Established 
Church  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  He  began  to  labor 
with  great  zeal  for  the  conversion  of  souls,  preaching 
the  doctrine  of  justification  by  faith.  This  course  was 
deemed  by  his  friends  a  departure  from  the  dignity  of 
of  his  ofifice,  and  was  deeply  humiliating  to  his  high-born 


136  THE  STORF  OF  THE  HYMAS. 

family,  who  for  a  time  treated  him  with  marked  coolness 
and  disregard.  "  To  go  to  the  stake,"  he  said,  "  would 
be  a  less  trial  to  me  than  to  so  set  myself  against  those 
whom  I  so  dearly  love."  But  he  remained  firm  to  his 
convictions  of  duty,  and  multitudes  flocked  to  his  preach- 
ing, and  he  was  able  to  exert  a  very  powerful  influence. 
He  was  an  Oriental  scholar  and  a  musical  composer,  as 
well  as  a  poet,  but  he  laid  all  of  his  varied  gifts  and  ac- 
complishments, with  unaffected  simplicity  and  humility, 
at  the  foot  of  the  Cross. 

His  religious  experience  is  related  in  the  following 

hymn  : 

Poor  and  afflicted,  Lord,  are  thine, 
Among  the  great  they  seldom  shine  ; 
Yet  though  the  world  may  think  it  strange, 
They  would  not  with  the  world  exchange. 

Poor  and  afflicted — 't  is  their  lot ; 
They  know  it,  and  they  murmur  not ; 
'T  would  ill  become  them  to  refuse 
The  state  their  Maker  deigned  to  choose. 

Poor  and  afflicted — yet  they  sing ; 
For  Jesus  is  their  glorious  King ; 
Through  sufferings  perfect  now  he  reigns, 
And  shares  in  all  their  griefs  and  pains. 

And  while  they  walk  the  thorny  way 
They  're  often  heard  to  sigh  and  say 
Dear  Saviour  come,  oh,  quickly  come, 
And  take  thy  mourning  pilgrims  home. 

The  lines,  as  applied  to  his  own  case,  are  not  in  the 
strictest  sense  true,  for. he  was  a  man  of  large  wealth. 
He  wrote  more  than  seven  hundred  hvmns  of  manv  dc- 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  137 

grees  of  excellence.  He  was  dissatisfied  with  the  disci- 
pline of  the  Established  Church ;  entertained  broad 
views,  and  looked  for  the  coming  of  Christ's  universal 
kingdom.  This  experience  is  the  origin  of  his  well- 
known  hymn : 

On  the  mountain-top  appearing, 

Lo  the  sacred  herald  stands, 
Joyful  news  to  Zion  bearing, 

Zion  long  in  hostile  hands  : 
Mourning  captive, 

God  himself  shall  loose  thy  bands. 

Has  thy  night  been  long  and  mournful  ? 

Have  thy  friends  unfaithful  proved  ? 
Have  thy  foes  been  proud  and  scornful, 

By  thy  sighs  and  tears  unmoved  ? 
Cease  thy  mourning ; 

Zion  still  is  well  beloved. 

God,  thy  God,  will  now  restore  thee  ; 

He  himself  appears  thy  Friend ; 
All  thy  foes  shall  flee  before  thee ; 

Here  their  boasts  and  triumphs  end 
Great  deliverance 

Zion's  King  will  surely  send. 

Peace  and  joy  shall  now  attend  thee  ; 

All  thy  warfare  now  is  past ; 
God  thy  Saviour  will  defend  thee ; 

Victory  is  thine  at  last : 
All  thy  conflicts 

End  in  everlasting  rest. 

He  labored  in  Dublin  for  more  than  sixty  years. 
Lord  Plunkett,  one  of  his  intimate  friends,  once  said  to 
him,  ]^2* 


138  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  I  think  you  will  live  to  a  great  age." 

"  I  am  confident  I  shall,"  said  the  vicar ;  "  I  expect 
never  to  die." 

His  dying  testimony  was  to  this  effect:  "The  Lord 
is  my  all  in  all."     " 


"ZT  /  AIC/ST  DIE,   OH  LET  ME  DIE    TRUSTING  IN 

JESUS'  blood:' 

Benjamin  Beddome,  a  Baptist  minister,  lived  a  life 
of  comparative  seclusion  in  a  small  country  village, 
called  Bourton-on-the-Water,  Gloucestershire,  where  he 
died  September,  1795,  in  the  79th  year  of  his  age.  He 
was  a  religious  poet,  and  wrote  nearly  one  thousand 
hymns. 

In  1749  he  was  prostrated- by  a  very  severe  illness, 
and  on  his  recovery  wrote  a  hymn,  which,  after  some 
improving,  was  published  as  follows : 

If  I  must  die,  oh  let  me  die 

Trusting  in  Jesus'  blood, 
That  blood  whicli  full  atonement  made 

And  reconciles  to  God. 

If  I  must  die,  then  let  me  die 

In  peace  with  all  mankind, 
And  change  these  fleeting  joys  below 

For  pleasures  all  refined. 

If  I  must  die,  as  die  I  must, 

Let  some  kind  seraph  come. 
And  bear  me  on  his  friendly  wing 

To  my  celestial  home. 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  139 

Of  Canaan's  land,  from  Pisgah's  top, 

May  I  but  have  a  view, 
Though  Jordan  should  o'erflow  its  banks, 

I  '11  boldly  venture  through. 

His  death  fulfilled  the  expectations  of  the  hymn.  He 
preached  long  after  the  silver  crown  of  age  had  been  set 
upon  his  head,  and  venerableness  had  added  solemnity 
and  dignity  to  his  words.  He  desired  that  he  might  de- 
part without  a  long  sickness.  He  was  confined  to  his 
house  at  last  only  a  single  Lord's  day.  An  hour  before 
his  death  he  was  found  composing  a  hymn,  in  which  was 
the  following  stanza : 

"  God  of  my  life  and  of  my  choice. 
Shall  I  no  longer  hear  thy  voice  ? 
Oh  let  the  source  of  joy  divine 
With  rapture  fill  this  heart  of  mine." 


''AWAKE,  MY  SOUL,  IN  JOYFUL  LA  YSP 

Rev.  Samuel  Medley  was  born  in  Hertfordshire, 
England,  1738.  At  the  age  of  eighteen  he  entered  the 
navy,  and  was  wounded  in  the  engagement  off  Cape  La- 
gos, under  Admiral  Boscawen,  in  1759.  His  wound 
proved  a  very  serious  one. 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  surgeon,  "that  amputation  is 
the  only  thing  that  will  save  your  life.  I  can  tell  to- 
morrow morning." 

Medley  had  received  religious  instruction  from  a 
pious  father  and  grandfather,  and  had  been  made  the 
subject  of  frequent  prayer.  He  had  led  a  profligate  life 
In  the  navy,  but  the  pious  lessons  of  his  early  youth 


I40  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

returned  upon  him  at  the  surgeon's  awful  warning,  and 
he  remembered  that  God  was  a  Helper  when  human 
helps  fail.  He  began  to  pray,  and  passed  a  part  of  the 
night  in  prayer.  The  next  morning  the  surgeon  came 
to  examine  his  wounds,  and  lifted  his  hands  in  surprise 
at  the  favorable  change  that  had  taken  place.  "  This," 
said  he,  "  is  little  short  of  a  miracle." 

Medley  now  resolved  to  lead  a  religious  life,  but  on 
recovery  was  again  led  into  thoughtless  habits. 

Returning  to  his  home,  he  was  compelled  to  listen  to 
many  a  faithful  admonition  and  warning.  One  Sabbath 
evening  he  inquired  of  a  servant  if  his  grandfather  was 
going  out  to  worship.  "  No,"  was  the  answer,  "  he  is 
coming  to  read  a  sermon  to  you."  "  A  sermon  to  me  !" 
replied  Medley ;  "  he  had  better  be  anywhere  else !" 
The  sermon  was  one  by  Dr.  Watts,  from  Isaiah  42:6,  7. 
He  listened  to  it  at  first  with  indifference,  but  his  heart 
at  last  began  to  melt,  and  he  was  led  to  see  the  wonder- 
ful forbearance  of  God.  As  soon  as  the  aged  man  left 
him  alone,  he  fell  upon  his  knees,  and  not  long  after  the 
love  of  Christ  filled  his  soul  and  changed  the  purpose  of 
his  life.  His  best  known  hymn  is  a  relation  of  this  ex- 
perience : 

Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays, 

And  sing  thy  great  Redeemer's  praise ; 

He  justly  claims  a  song  from  me ; 

His  loving-kindness  is  so  free  I 

He  saw  me  ruined  in  the  fall. 
Yet  loved  me  notwithstanding  all : 
He  saved  me  from  my  lost  estate ; 
His  loving-kindness  is  so  great ! 


SONGS  IN  THE  PILGRIMAGE.  141 

Through  mighty  hosts  of  cruel  foes, 
Where  earth  and  hell  my  way  oppose, 
He  safely  leads  my  soul  along ! 
His  loving-kindness  is  so  strong ! 

When  earthly  friends  forsake  me  quite, 
And  I  have  neither  skill  nor  might, 
He  's  sure  my  helper  to  appear; 
His  loving-kindness  is  so  near ! 

Often  I  feel  my  sinful  heart 
Prone  from  my  Jesus  to  depart ; 
And  though  I  oft  have  him  forgot. 
His  loving-kindness  changes  not. 

So  when  I  pass  death's  gloomy  vale, 
And  life  and  mortal  powers  shall  fail. 
Oh  may  my  last  expiring  breath 
His  loving-kindness  sing  in  death! 


IV.  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS. 


1.  SHEPHERD  OF  TENDER  YOUTH. 

2.  THERE  IS  A  HAPPY  LAND. 

3.  /  THINK  WHEN  I  READ  THAT  SWEET  STORY  OF  OLD. 

4.  WE  SPEAK  OF  THE  REALMS  OF  THE  BLEST. 
I.  NOW  I  LAY  ME  DOWN  TO  SLEEP. 

6.  GOLDEN  HEAD,  SO  LOWLY  BENDING. 

7.  "  NO  W  I  LA  Y;'—REPEA  T  it,  DARLING. 

8.  /  WANT  TO  BE  AN  ANGEL. 

9.  'TIS  RELIGION  THAT  CAN  GIVE. 

0.  STAND  UP  FOR  JESUS. 

1.  DAILY,  DAILY  SING  THE  PRAISES. 

2.  JUST  AS  I  AM,   WITHOUT  ONE  PLEA. 
Z.  BY  COOL  SILOAM'S  SHADY  RILL. 

4.  0  MOTHER  DEAR,  JERUSALEM. 

5.  JERUSALEM,  MY  HAPPY  HOME. 

6.  FM  BUT  A  STRANGER  HERE 

7.  GOD  CALLING  YET. 

8.  LITTLE  TRA  VELLERS  ZIONWARD. 

9.  LAND  AHEAD!  ITS  FRUITS  ARE  WAVING. 

20.  HE  LEADETH  ME!  OH,  BLESSED  THOUGHT. 

21.  /  AM  SO  GLAD  THAT  OUR  FATHER  IN  HEAVEN 

22.  J  GA  VE  MY  LIFE  FOR  THEE. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS. 


WRITERS  OF  SUNDA  Y-SCHOOL  HYMNS. 

The  writers  of  the  best  Sunday-school  hymns  are 
benefactors, -whose  influence  is  hardly  calculable,  but 
whose  personal  history,  with  but  few  exceptions,  is  little 
known. 

I.  The  following  is  a  part  of  the  oldest  Christian  hymn 

for  children  : 

Shepherd  of  tender  youth, 

Guiding  in  love  and  truth 

Through  devious  ways, 
Christ,  our  triumphant  king, 
We  come  thy  name  to  sing, 
And  here  our  children  bring 

To  shout  thy  praise. 

Ever  be  thou  our  guide, 
Our  shepherd  and  our  pride. 

Our  staff  and  song ; 
Jesus,  thou  Christ  of  God, 
By  thy  perennial  word 
Lead  us  where  thou  hast  trod, 

Make  our  faith  strong. 

So  now,  and  till  we  die 
Sound  we  thy  praises  high. 

And  joyful  sing ; 
Infants,  and  the  glad  throng 
Who  to  thy  church  belong, 
Unite  and  sing  the  song 
To  Christ  our  king. 
8tii:  ofHymiis.  13 


146  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

2.  The  favorite  Sunday-school  hymn  beginning  — 

"  There  is  a  happy  land," 

seems  to  have  been  suggested  by  a  Hebrew  melody.  It 
was  written  by  Andrew  Young,  a  cultured  Scotchman, 
and  a  popular  teacher  of  youth.  In  1830,  he  was  elected 
by  the  City  Council  of  Edinburgh,  head  master  of  the 
Niddry  street  school,  and  in  1840  was  appointed  English 
master  in  Madras  college.  He  held  the  latter  position 
thirteen  years,  and  has  since  resided  in  Edinburgh. 

3,  The  hymn  beginning — 

"  I  think  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old," 

which  is  sometimes  attributed  to  Mrs.  Judson,  was  com- 
posed by  Mrs.  Jemima  Luke,  a  benevolent  and  accom- 
plished English  lady,  born  at  Colebrook  Terrace,  Islington, 
Angust  19,  1813.  She  took  a  great  interest  in  mission- 
ary enterprises,  and  for  several  years  edited  The  Mission- 
ary Repository.  She  exhibited  a  fine  literary  and  poetic 
taste  early  in  life,  and  at  the  age  of  thirteen  was  able  to 
write  acceptably  for  the  yiivenile  Magasine.  The  hymn 
was  composed  under  somewhat  peculiar  circumstances, 
and  she  had  no  idea  of  its  value  or  ultimate  popularity 
at  the  time  of  writing.  Her  father,  Thomas  Thompson, 
Esq.,  was  a  philanthropist,  and  took  an  interest,  like  her- 
self, in  missions,  and  in  the  education  of  poor  children. 
Mrs.  Luke  became  much  attached  to  a  little  village 
school  near  her  father's  residence  at  Pondsford  Park, 
and,  on  a  certain  occasion,  wished  to  write  a  little  song 
for  it,  that  would  awaken  an  interest  in  religion  and 
have  a  salutary  effect  on  the  minds  of  the  children.     The 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  147 

leading  thought  of  the  hymn,  which  is  Christ's  present 
sympathy  for  the  little  ones,  was  brought  to  her  mind 
while  riding  in  a  stage-coach,  and  she  composed  the 
poem  during  the  ride,  while  the  inspiration  of  the  sub- 
ject yet  lingered.     It  was  published  in  1865. 

The  following  is  the  original  of  Mrs.  Luke's  beautiful 
hymn,  which  has  two  stanzas  not  found  in  many  collec- 
tions : 

I  THINK  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old, 

When  Jesus  dwelt  here  among  men, 
How  he  called  little  children  as  lambs  to  his  fold, 

I  should  like  to  have  been  with  him  then. 

I  wish  that  his  hand  had  been  put  on  my  head, 

And  that  I  been  placed  on  his  knee, 
And  that  I  might  have  seen  his  kind  look  when  he  said, 

"  Let  the  little  ones  come  unto  me." 

Yet  still  to  his  footstool  in  prayer  I  may  go, 

And  ask  for  a  share  in  his  love  ; 
And  if  I  thus  earnestly  seek  him  below, 

I  shall  hear  him  and  see  him  above, 

In  that  beautiful  place  he  is  gone  to  prepare 
For  all  who  are  washed  and  forgiven ; 

And  many  dear  children  are  gathering  there, 
For  of  such  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

But  thousands  and  thousands  who  wander  and  fall 

Never  heard  of  that  heavenly  home  ; 
I  should  like  them  to  know  there  is  room  for  them  all 

And  that  Jesus  has  bid  them  to  come. 

I  long  for  that  blessed  and  glorious  time — 

The  fairest,  the  brightest,  the  best — 
When  the  dear  little  children  of  every  clime 

Shall  crowd  to  his  arms  and  be  blessed. 


148  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

4.  The  hymn  found  in  nearly  all  Sunday-school  collec- 
tions, entitled  "  What  must  it  be  to  be  there  ?"  and  be- 
ginning— 

"  We  speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blest," 

was  written  by  a  young  English  lady,  the  wife  of  Thomas 
Mills,  Esq.,  M.  P.,  who  was  much  esteemed  for  her  amia- 
bleness,  tenderness  of  feeling,  and  calm  religious  trust. 
She  died  at  the  age  of  twenty-four.  The  hymn  was 
composed  about  three  weeks  before  her  decease,  while 
she  was  yet  lingering,  as  it  were,  on  the  heavenly  border 
refreshed  with  the  near  prospect  of  Paradise.  She  had 
been  reading  Bridges  on  Psalm  119:44,  "We  speak  of 
heaven,  but,  oh,  to  be  there  !"'  The  original  has  six 
stanzas. 

5.  The  little  prayer  beginning — 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep," 

is  altered  from  Dr.  Watts.  It  has  been  an  evening  pray- 
er for  children,  as  far  as  the  English  language  is  spoken, 
for  nearly  two  centuries.  Several  little  Sunday-school 
ballads  have  been  written  upon  it. 

6.  One  of  these  first  appeared  in  Putnam  s  Magazine: 

Golden  head,  so  lowly  bending. 

Little  feet  so  white  and  bare, 
Dewy  eyes,  half  shut,  half  opened, 

Lisping  out  her  evening  prayer. 

Well  she  knows  when  she  is  saying 

"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep," 
'Tis  to  God  that  she  is  praying, 

Praying  him  her  soul  to  kccj). 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  149 

Half  asleep,  and  murmuring  faintly 
"  If  I  should  die  before  I  wake"— 

Tiny  fingers  clasped  so  saintly — 
"  I  pray  the  Lord  my  soul  to  take." 

Oh  the  rapture,  sweet,  unbroken. 
Of  the  soul  who  wrote  that  prayer ! 

Children's  myriad  voices  floating 
Up  to  heaven  record  it  there. 

If,  of  all  that  has  been  written, 
I  could  choose  what  might  be  mine, 

It  should  be  that  child's  petition, 
Rising  to  the  throne  divine. 

7.  The  following,  entitled  "  The  unfinished  Prayer," 
originally  appeared,  we  think,  in  the  Lutheran  Home 
Monthly: 

"  Now  I  lay,' —repeat  it,  darling— 

"  Lay  me,"  lisped  the  tiny  lips 
Of  my  daughter,  kneeling,  bending 
O'er  her  folded  finger  tips. 

"  Down  to  sleep"—"  To  sleep,"  she  murmured, 

And  the  curly  head  bent  low ; 
"  I  pray  the  Lord" — I  gently  added, 

"  You  can  say  it  all  I  know." 

"Pray  the  Lord — "  The  sound  came  faintly, 
Fainter  still—"  My  soul  to  keep ;" 

Then  the  tired  head  fairly  nodded, 
And  the  child  w^as  fast  asleep. 

But  the  dewy  eyes  half  opened 
When  I  clasped  her  to  my  breast, 

And  the  dear  voice  softly  whispered, 
"  Mamma,  God  knows  all  the  rest. 
13* 


ISO  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

8.  Rev.  Dr.  Armitage  of  New  York,  in  a  lecture  on 
"Our  Female  Hymn  Writers,"  has  recently  brought  to 
light  the  touching  history  of  the  hymn,  beginning, 

"  I  want  to  be  an  angel." 

"  It  was  written,"  he  says,  "  by  Mrs.  Sydney  P.  Gill,  in 
Philadelj3hia.  In  the  Sunday-school  of  Dr.  Joel  Parker's 
church  she  taught  the  infant  class.  She  had  been 
teaching  a  lesson  on  angels,  when  a  little  child  said, 
'  I  want  to  be  an  angel.'  A  few  days  after,  the  child 
died,  the  hymn  was  written  for  that  Sunday-school  to 
sing  on  her  death,  arid  it  has  struck  a  chord  in  every 
child's  heart  since  1845." 

It  was  composed  April  19,  1845,  on  the  day  of  the 
death  of  a  little  girl  named  Annie  Louisa  Farrand,  the 
Sunday-school  scholar  to  whom  Dr.  Armitage  refers. 

The  words  "  I  want  to  be  an  angel"  had  at  this  time 
been  made  familiar  by  the  following  incident,  written 
by  Dr.  Irenaeus  Prime,  April  5,  1845,  which  was  being 
copied  by  nearly  all  religious  and  Sunday-school  papers  : 

"  A  child  sat  in  the  door  of  a  cottage  at  the  close  of  a 
summer  Sabbath.  The  twilight  was  fading,  and  as  the 
shades  of  evening  darkened,  one  after  another  of  the 
stars  stood  in  the  sky  and  looked  down  on  the  child  in 
his  thoughtful  mood.  He  was  looking  up  at  the  stars 
and  counting  them  as  they  came,  till  there  were  too  many 
to  be  counted,  and  his  eyes  wandered  all  over  the  heav- 
ens, watching  the  bright  worlds  above.  They  seemed 
just  like  "  holes  in  the  floor  of  heaven  to  let  the  glory 
through,"  but  he  knew  better.     Yet  he  loved  to  look  up 


S  UNDA  J  '-SCHO  OL  HYMNS.  1 5 1 

there,  and  was  so  absorbed,  that  his  mother  called  to 
him  and  said  : 

"  '  My  son,  what  are  you  thinking  of  ?' 

"  He  started  as  if  suddenly  aroused  from  sleep,  and 
answered, 

"  '  I  was  thinking 

"'Yes,'  said  his  mother,  '  I  know  you  were  thinking, 
but  what  were  you  thinking  about  ?' 

"'Oh,'  said  he,  and  his  little  eyes  sparkled  with  the 
thought,  '  /  want  to  be  an  angel! 

"  '  And  why,  my  son,  would  you  be  an  angel  ?' 

"  '  Heaven  is  up  there,  is  it  not,  mother  ?  and  there  the 
angels  live  and  love  God,  and  are  happy.  I  do  wish  I 
was  good,  and  God  would  take  me  there,  and  let  me  wait 
on  him  for  ever.' 

"  The  mother  called  him  to  her  knee,  and  he  leaned  on 
her  bosom  and  wept.  She  wept  too,  and  smoothed  the 
soft  hair  of  his  head  as  he  stood  there,  and  kissed  his 
forehead,  and  then  told  him  that  if  he  would  give  his 
heart  to  God,  now  while  he  was  young,  the  Saviour 
would  forgive  all  his  sins  and  take  him  up  to  heaven 
when  he  died,  and  he  would  then  be  with  God  for  ever. 

"  His  young  heart  was  comforted.  He  knelt  at  his 
mother's  side  and  said  : 

"'Jesus,  Saviour,  Son  of  God, 
Wash  me  in  thy  precious  blood ; 
I  thy  little  lamb  would  be, 
Help  me,  Lord,  to  look  to  thee. 

The  mother  took  the  young  child  to  his  chamber  and 
soon  he  was  asleep,  dreaming  perhaps   of  angels   and 


152  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

heaven.    A  few  months  afterwards  sickness  was  on  him, 
and  the  light  of  that  cottage,  the  joy  of  that  mother's 
heart,  went  out.     He  breathed  his  last  in  her  arms,  and 
as  he  took  her  parting  kiss,  he  whispered  in  her  ear  : 
'"  I  am  going  to  be  an  angel.'  " 

9.  'T  IS  religion  that  can  give 

Sweetest  pleasure  while  we  live  ; 
'T  is  religion  can  supply- 
Solid  comfort  when  we  die. 
After  death  its  joys  shall  be 
Lasting  as  eternity. 

This  poem,  in  six  lines,  is  from  an  English  book,  by 
Mary  Masters.  In  the  preface  to  the  work,  we  read, 
"  The  author  of  the  following  poems  never  read  a  trea- 
tise of  rhetoric  or  an  art  of  poetry,  nor  was  ever  taught 
her  English  grammar.  Her  education  rose  no  higher 
than  the  spelling-book  or  her  writing-master.  Her  ge- 
nius to  poetry  was  always  discountenanced  by  her  pa- 
rents, and  till  her  merit  got  the  better  of  her  fortune,  she 
was  shut  out  from  all  commerce  with  the  more  knowing 
and  polite  part  of  the  world." 

10.  The  American  Sunday-school  hymn,  beginning, 

"  Stand  up,  stand  up  for  Jesus," 

was  composed  by  George  Duffield,  a  Presbyterian  clergy- 
man in  Detroit.  He  was  born  at  Carlisle,  Penn.,  in  18 18, 
and  graduated  at  Yale  College  in  1837.  He  has  written 
a  number  of  hymns,  of  which,  "  Stand  up  for  Jesus," 
owing  perhaps  to  its  associations,  is  best  known.  It  was 
composed  to  be  sung  after  a  sermon  delivered  by  the 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  153 

writer  on  the  sudden  death  of  Rev.  Dudley  A.  Tyng, 
whose  dying  words  to  his  Christian  brothers  were,  "  Stand 
up  for  Jesus." 

Dudley  Atkins  Tyng  was  born  on  the  12th  of  January, 
1825,  in  a  quiet  parsonage  in  Prince  George  Co.,  Va. 
His  father,  Dr.  Stephen  H.Tyng,  removed  to  St.  George's 
Church,  Philadelphia,  in  which  parish  Dudley  passed 
his  boyhood.  He  was  a  precocious  scholar.  He  was 
able  to  read  the  Latin  authors  at  the  age  of  seven,  and 
he  entered  the  University  of  Pennsylvania  at  the  age  of 
fourteen. 

He  became  the  subject  of  converting  grace  and  ex- 
perimental religion  in  1841.  His  father  relates  the  fol- 
lowing touching  incident  in  connection  with  his  conver- 
sion :  "  Late  one  night,  when  all  the  family  had  retired 
to  rest,  and  left  me  to  my  closing  hour  of  solitude  in  my 
study,  I  heard  the  sound  of  feet  descending  the  stairs. 
It  was  this  dear  boy,  who  had  risen  from  his  bed  in 
sleepless  sorrow.  As  he  came  into  my  room  and  pressed 
his  arms  around  my  neck,  he  said,  "  Dear  father,  I  can- 
not sleep,  I  am  so  sinful.     Father,  will  you  pray  for  me .''" 

In  1854,  Mr.  Tyng  became  rector  of  the  church  of  the 
Epiphany,  Philadelphia,  and  he  entered  with  glowing 
zeal  and  love  for  souls  into  the  revival  work  associated 
with  the  great  religious  awakening  which,  soon  after  his 
instalment,  manifested  itself  at  Philadelphia  and  in  the 
principal  cities  of  the  United  States.  He  was  the  favor- 
ite leader  of  the  great  union  prayer-meetings  held  in 
Philadelphia,  and  it  is  said  that  he  met  more  inquirers 
during  the  revival  than  an}^  other  pastor  in  the  city. 


X54  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

In  the  spring  following  the  great  awakening,  he  met 
with  a  terrible  accident  that  proved  fatal  in  its  results. 

"  Dr. ,"  said  the  young  pastor  to  his  physician,  "  my 

friend  .n  me  up ;  they  say  that  I  am  dying ;  is 

that  ^  .lon  T'     The  doctor  rephed  in  the  affirma- 

tive, .en,  doctor,  I  have  something  to  say  to  you.    I 

have  loved  you  much  as  a  friend  ;  I  long  to  love  you  as 
a  brother  in  Jesus  Christ.  Let  me  entreat  you  now  to 
come  to  Jesus." 

He  was  asked  if  he  had  any  message  to  his  brethren 
in  the  ministry.     He  said,  addressing  his  father, 

"  Father,  stand  up  for  Jesus.  Tell  them,  let  us  all 
stand  up  for  Jesus." 

He  became  partially  unconscious.  He  did  not  know 
any  of  the  members  of  the  family. 

"  Do  you  know  Jesus  .'"  he  was  asked. 

His  answer  was  jubilant. 

"  I  know  Jesus.  I  have  a  steadfast  trust  in  Jesus^a 
calm  and  steadfast  trust." 

"  Are  you  happy  .''" 

"  Perfectly !  perfectly." 

He  was  buried  amid  the  tears  of  more  than  ten  thou- 
sand people. 

II.  The  English  Sunday-school  hymn,  so  popular  in 
Episcopal  churches,  beginning, 

"Daily,  dai]y  sing  tlie  praises 
Of  tlie  city  (iod  lias  made," 

was  composed  by  Sabine  Baring-Gould,  and  originally 
printed  on  a  card  for  the  use  of  St.  John's  Mission,  Hor- 
bury  Bridge,  Yorkshire.     The  same  year  it  appeared  in 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  155 

the  "  Church  Times."     The  chorus  is  vigorous,  and  the 
music  is  animating  as  the  hymn  : 

"  Oil  that  I  had  wings  of  angels 
Here  to  spread  and  heavenwa. 
I  would  seek  the  walls  of  Zion,  ' ' 

Far  beyond  ihe  starry  sky." 

12.  The  authorship  of  the  hymn,  beginning, 

"  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea," 
has  recently  been  noticed  in  several  religious  papers.     It 
was  written  by  Charlotte  Elliott  of  Torquay,  Eng.     She 
was  born  March  18,  1789,  and  died  at  Brighton,  Sept.  22, 
1871.     The  original  hymn  has  a  stanza  often  omitted  : 

"  Just  as  I  am,  of  that  free  love 
The  breadth,  length,  depth,  and  height  to  prove, 
Here  for  a  season,  then  above, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come." 

13.  The  favorite  Sunday-school  hymn,  beginning, 

"  By  cool  Siloam's  shady  rill," 
was  composed  by  Bishop  I  leber.  He  but  gives  in  it  his 
own  experience.  His  early  feet  "  trod  the  paths  of 
peace,"  and  his  mind  was  early  "  upward  drawn  to  God." 
He  was  a  solitary  student  at  Oxford,  his  gentle,  devo- 
tional nature  shrinking  from  the  show  and  affectation  of 
society.  His  fine  poem,  "  Palestine,"  was  written  for  a 
college  exercise.  Though  so  quiet,  he  became  greatly 
beloved  at  Oxford,  and  when  "Palestine"  was  first  read 
by  him  in  the  theatre,  at  the  annual  college  commence- 
ment, it  was  received  with  such  an  outburst  of  applause  as 
probably  never  before  greeted  an  Oxford  student.     His 


156  THE  STORY  OF  'THE  HYMNS. 

aged  father  and  mother  were  present  on  the  occasion. 
After  the  reading  of  the  poem,  young  Heber  was  for  a 
long  time  missing,  and  his  mother,  going  to  look  for  him, 
softly  opened  the  door  of  his  sleeping  room.  She  found 
him  on  his  knees  breathing  out  his  soul  in  gratitude  and 
prayer. 

14.  The  hymn,  used  both  in  the  church  and  Sunday- 
schgol,  beginning, 

"  O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem," 

was  written  in  the  Tower  of  London  on  the  Thames, 
during  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  Its  figures  and  contrasts 
are  those  of  imprisonment.     Such  lines  as 

"  Oh  happy  harbor  of  God's  saints," 
"  There  envy  bears  no  sway," 
"  Thy  turrets  and  thy  pinnacles," 
"  We  that  are  here  in  banishment," 

have  new  meanings  as  we  understand  the  associations 
amid  which  they  were  written.  Some  of  the  stanzas, 
usually  omitted  in  hymn-books,  are  very  beautiful. 

Its  author  was  Francis  Baker.     It  is  also  inscribed 
to  David  Dickson,  15  83- 1662. 

O  MOTHER  dear,  Jerusalem ! 

When  shall  I  come  to  thee  ? 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end  ? 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see  ? 

Oh  happy  harbor  of  God's  saints  ! 

Oh  sweet  and  pleasant  soil! 
In  thee  no  sorrow  can  be  found, 

Nor  crrief  nor  care  nor  toil. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  157 

In  thee  no  sickness  is  at  all, 

Nor  hurt  nor  any  sore ; 
There  is  no  death  nor  ugly  sight, 

But  life  for  evermore. 

No  murky  cloud  o'ershadows  thee. 

Nor  gloom,  nor  darksome  night ; 
But  every  soul  shines  as  the  sun ; 

For  God  himself  gives  light. 

Jerusalem  !  Jerusalem ! 

Would  God  I  were  in  thee ! 
Oh  that  my  sorrows  had  an  end, 

Thy  joys  that  I  might  see. 

Thy  turrets  and  thy  pinnacles 

With  carbuncles  do  shine, 
With  jasper,  pearl,  and  chrysolite, 

Surpassing  pure  and  fine. 

Thy  houses  are  of  ivory, 

Thy  windows  crystal  clear, 
Thy  streets  are  laid  with  beaten  gold ; 

There  angels  do  appear. 

Thy  walls  are  made  of  precious  stone, 

Thy  bulwarks  diamond  square, 
Thy  gates  are  made  of  orient  pearl ; 

O  God,  if  I  were  there ! 

Oh  my  sweet  home,  Jerusalem  ! 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see  ? 
The  King  that  sitteth  on  thy  throne 

In  his  felicity? 

Thy  gardens  and  thy  goodly  walks 

Continually  are  green. 
Where  grow  such  sweet  and  pleasant  flowers 

As  nowhere  else  are  seen. 
14 


158  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Right  through  thy  streets  with  pleasing  sound, 

The  Hving  waters  flow, 
And  on  the  banks,  on  either  side 

The  trees  of  life  do  grow. 

Those  trees  each  month  yield  ripened  fruit; 

For  evermore  they  spring, 
And  all  the  nations  of  the  earth 

To  thee  their  honors  bring. 

If  heaven  be  thus  glorious,  Lord, 
Why  should  I  stay  from  thence  ? 

What  folly  's  this,  that  I  should  dread 
To  dfe  and  go  from  hence  ! 

Reach  down,  O  Lord,  thine  arm  of  grace, 

And  cause  me  to  ascend 
Where  congregations  ne'er  break  up 

And  Sabbaths  never  end. 

O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem  ! 

When  shall  I  come  to  thee  ? 
When  shall  my  sorrows  have  an  end  ? 

Thy  joys  when  shall  I  see  ? 

15.  The  stanzas  which  follow,  constituting  a  well- 
known  and  popular  hymn  by  themselves,  seem  to  have 
been  formed  on  the  same  model : 

Jerusaleji,  my  happy  home, 

Name  ever  dear  to  me. 
When  shall  my  labors  have  an  end 

In  joy  and  peace  and  thee  ? 

When  shall  these  eyes  thy  heaven-built  walls 

And  pearly  gates  behold  ? 
Thy  bulwarks,  with  salvation  strong. 

And  streets  of  shining  gold  ? 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  159 

There  happier  bowers  than  Eden's  bloom, 

Nor  sin  nor  sorrow  know : 
Blest  seats  !  through  rude  and  stormy  scenes 

I  onward  press  to  you. 

Why  should  I  shrink  from  pain  and  woe, 

Or  feel  at  death  dismay  ? 
I  've  Canaan's  goodly  land  in  view 

And  realms  of  endless  day. 

Apostles,  martyrs,  prophets,  there 

Around  my  Saviour  stand : 
And  soon  my  friends  in  Christ  below 

Will  join  the  glorious  band. 

Jerusalem,  my  happy  home. 

My  soul  still  pants  for  thee ; 
Then  shall  my  labors  have  an  end, 

When  I  thy  joys  shall  see. 

16.  Every  Sunday-school  scholar  is  familiar  with  the 
beautiful  hymn,  beginning, 

"  I  'm  but  a  stranger  here. 
Heaven  is  my  home." 

Older  and  more  experienced  minds  may  have  marked 
so  much  of  evident  sincerity  and  so  little  of  the  spirit  of 
authorship  in  the  lines,  as  to  wish  to  know  who  was  the 
author,  and  under  what  peculiar  discipline  of  life  they 
were  composed.  The  hymn  was  written  by  Thomas 
Rawson  Taylor,  the  son  of  an  English  Congregationalist 
minister.  He  was  born  near  Wakefield  on  the  9th  of 
May,  1807.  At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  became  a  mer- 
chant's clerk,  and  he  was  subsequently  apprenticed  as  a 
nrinter.     While  thus  employed  he  became  interested  in 


i6o  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

the  concerns  of  his  soul,  experienced  great  spiritual  con- 
solations in  seasons  of  prayer,  and  was  impressed  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  give  up  his  secular  calling  and  prepare 
for  the  ministry.  He  entered  Airesdale  College,  where 
he  remained  three  years,  living  a  life  of  most  elevated 
and  self-forgetful  piety.  He  did  not  wait  to  complete 
his  education  before  he  commenced  active  service  in  the 
cause  of  his  Master.  He  seemed  to  feel  the  force  of  the 
Divine  command,  "  Work  while  the  day  lasts."  While  a 
student  he  used  to  go  out  to  the  towns  and  villages  near 
the  college  preaching  the  Word,  and  appearing  in  his 
young  zeal  like  a  special  messenger  of  celestial  truth. 
In  July,  1830,  he  was  received  as  minister  at  Haward 
street  chapel  at  Sheffield.  Here  his  health  began  to  de- 
cline ;  it  became  evident  that  he  was  marked  for  an  early 
death,  and  that  his  bright  prospects  of  worldly  usefulness 
were  destined  to  be  disappointed.  The  change  gradu- 
ally continued.  He  struggled  against  it  for  several 
years,  and  at  times  seemed  to  check  the  sure  hand  of 
the  destroyer.  But  all  remedial  efforts  proved  in  vain^ 
and  he  died  March  7,  1835. 

In  his  altered  days  he  felt  that  he  was  a  "  stranger 
here"  in  the  world  of  life  and  activity.  But  as  one  by 
one  his  worldy  hopes  perished,  and  the  things  of  earth  lost 
their  power  to  charm,  he  realized  with  glowing  antici- 
pations that  "  Heaven  was  his  home. 

I  'm  but  a  stranger  here, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ; 
Earth  is  a  desert  drear, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  i6x 

Dangers  and  sorrows  stand 
Round  me  on  every  hand  ; 
Heaven  is  my  Fatherland — 
Heaven  is  my  home. 

What  though  the  tempest  rage, 

Heaven  is  my  home ; 
Short  is  my  pilgrimage, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
And  time's  wild,  wintry  blast 
Soon  will  be  overpast ; 
I  sliall  reach  home  at  last — 

Heaven  is  my  home. 

Therefore  I  murmur  not, 

Heaven  is  my  home  ; 
Whate'er  my  earthly  lot, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
And  I  shall  surely  stand 
There  at  my  Lord's  right  hand — 
Heaven  is  my  Fatherland — 

Heaven  is  my  home. 

There  at  my  Saviour's  side. 

Heaven  is  my  home  ; 
I  shall  be  glorified, 

Heaven  is  my  home. 
There  are  the  good  and  blest, 
Those  I  loved  most  and  best, 
There,  too,  I  soon  shall  rest — 

Heaven  is  my  home. 

Taylor  died  young,  and  he  must  have  felt  like  Keats, 
that  his  name  was  "  writ  in  water,"  or,  like  Kirke  White, 

"  I  shall  sink 
As  sinks  the  traveller  in  the  crowded  streets 
Of  busy  London." 

14=' 


1 62  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

But  his  little  hymn,  written  amid  the  dreariness  of 
worldly  disappointment,  has  accomplished  a  mission  that 
makes  him  a  benefactor,  and  by  it  he  yet  speaks,  as  no 
living  voice  can  speak,  to  almost  countless  congregations 
in  nearly  every  part  of  the  world. 

17.  The  beautiful  hymn  which  has  lately  become  a  fa- 
vorite in  the  Sunday-school,  Young  People's  meetings, 
and  Inquiry  meetings,  beginning,  "  God  calling  yet,"  was 
written  by  Gerhard  Tersteegen.  Thousands  who  sing 
this  hymn,  and  who  also  love  to  sing  another  precious 
stanza  from  a  hymn  by  the  same  author,  beginning — 

"  Is  there  a  thing  beneath  the  sun, 

That  strives  with  Thee  my  heart  to  share  ?" 

know  but  little  of  the  personal   history  of   the   writer. 
Others  who  love  to  read — 

"  Thou  hidden  love  of  God,  whose  height — " 

have  never  heard  of  the  great  religious   happiness  and 
elevation  of  soul  that  its  German  author  enjoyed. 

Gerhard  Tersteegen,  the  original  author  of  the  hymns 
to  which  we  have  alluded,  and  one  of  the  most  eminent 
religious  poets  of  the  Reformed  German  church  in  its 
early  days,  was  born  in  1697,  in  the  town  of  Mors,  in 
Westphalia.  He  was  left  an  orphan  in  boyhood  by  the 
death  of  his  father,  and  as  his  mother's  means  were  lim- 
ited, he  was  put  to  work  as  an  apprentice  when  very 
young  at  Muhlheim  on  the  Rhur.  Here,  when  about 
fifteen  years  of  age,  he  became  deeply  concerned  for  his 
soul,  and  experienced  a  deep  and  abiding  spiritual  work. 
He  was  riding  one  day  to    Duisburg  in  a  deep  forest 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  163 

alone,  when  he  suddenly  fell  ill,  being  thrown  into  vio- 
lent convulsions  that  threatened  his  life.  He  fell  upon 
his  knees  and  implored  God  to  spare  his  life,  that  he 
might  prepare  for  eternity.  He  experienced  almost  im- 
mediate relief,  and  at  once  dedicated  his  life  to  Christ. 
An  inward  conflict  followed,  for  his  early  religious  com- 
forts seem  to  have  been  like  wandering  lights,  now  vanish- 
ing and  now  appearing.  He  used  to  express  this  state 
of  his  experience  in  the  words  of  St.  Augustine : 

"  My  heart  is  pained,  nor  can  it  be 
At  rest,  till  it  finds  rest  in  Thee." 

But  his  religious  perceptions  became  clearer ;  the 
fountains  of  heavenly  refreshment  were  opened  ;  his  soul 
entered  into  the  rest  of  divine  love,  and  found  in  it  a 
present  heaven.  He  thus  gratefully  writes  of  the  change : 
"  He  took  me  by  the  hand,  he  drew  me  away  from  per- 
dition's yawning  gulf,  directed  my  eye  to  himself,  and 
opened  to  me  the  unfathomable  abyss  of  his  loving  heart." 
He  seemed  to  be  drawn  into  closer  fellowship  with  God 
as  youth  ripened  into  manhood,  and  to  live,  as  it  were, 
on  the  heavenly  confines  as  manhood  fruited  in  a  serene 
and  cloudless  old  age.  At  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  he 
dedicated  all  his  resources  and  energies  to  the  cause  of 
Christ,  writing  the  dedication  in  his  own  blood.  "  God 
graciously  called  me,"  he  says,  "  out  of  the  world,  and 
granted  me  the  desire  to  belong  to  him,  and  to  be  willing 
to  follow  him.  I  long  for  eternity  that  I  may  suitably 
glorify  him  for  it." 

When  he  was  thirty  years  of  age,  a  great  spiritual  awa- 
kening was  experienced  at  Muhlheim,  and  although  Tcrs- 


164  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

teegen  shrank  from  public  notice,  he  was  prevailed  upon 
to  address  the  people  on  themes  relating  to  religious  expe- 
rience. He  began  to  preach  in  jorivate  houses,  but  was 
soon  compelled  to  enter  iipon  more  public  labors.  He 
gave  up  secular  employments  altogether,  and  devoted  his 
whole  time  to  religious  instruction  and  to  the  poor.  His 
house  became  famous  as  the  Pilgrims'  Cottage,  and  was 
visited  not  only  by  the  most  eminent  Christians  of  Ger- 
many, but  by  multitudes  of  people  from  foreign  lands. 
Thus  spending  his  time  in  communion  with  God  and 
in  humble  charities,  and  speaking  to  the  spiritually- 
minded  people  who  flocked  to  visit  him,  of  the  consola- 
tions of  his  own  luminous  experience,  and  of  the  new  dis- 
coveries that  grace  was  constantly  making  to  his  soul, 
beloved  at  home  and  revered  and  respected  in  foreign 
lands,  his  life  drew  near  a  triumphant  exit,  which  took 
place,  April  3,  1769.  He  lived  an  ascetic  life  in  his 
best  years,  practising  austerities,  that  no  physical  imped- 
iment might  shut  out  the  heavenly  light  or  hinder  the  work 
of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  comforming  his  soul  to  the  will  of 
God.  He  produced  one  hundred  religious  poems  and 
spiritual  songs,  some  of  the  best  of  which  Wesley  trans- 
lated, and  whose  authorship  is  attributed  to  Wesley  in 
most  American  collections  of  hymns. 

The  following  is  a  very  literal  translation  of  Terstee- 
gen's  hymn  before  alluded  to  : 

God  calling  yet — and  shall  I  never  hearken.'' 
But  still  earth's  witcheries  my  spirit  darken ; 
This  passing  life,  these  passing  joys,  all  flying, 
And  still  my  soul  in  dreamy  slumbers  lying. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  165 

God  calling  yet ! — and  I  not  yet  arising  ? 
So  long  his  loving,  faithful  voice  despising ; 
So  falsely  his  unwearied  care  repaying ; 
He  calls  me  still — and  still  I  am  delaying. 

God  calling  yet !  loud  at  my  door  he  's  knocking, 
And  I,  my  heart,  my  ear,  still  firmer  locking; 
He  still  is  read}%  willing  to  receive  me, 
Is  waiting  now,  but  ah  !  he  soon  may  leave  me. 

God  calling  yet ! — and  I  no  answer  giving ; 
I  dread  his  yoke,  and  am  in  bondage  living. 
Too  long  I  linger,  but  not  yet  forsaken. 
He  calls  me  still — O  my  poor  heart,  awaken ! 

Oh,  calling  yet ! — I  can  no  longer  tarry, 

Nor  to  my  God  a  heart  divided  carry ; 

Now,  vain  and  giddy  world,  your  spells  are  broken, 

Sweeter  than  all !  the  voice  of  God  hath  spoken. 


18.  James  Edmeston,  a  writer  who  seems  to  have 
sympathized  deeply  with  piety  in  early  childhood,  was  a 
London  architect,  and  was  born  in  1791.  He  was  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Church  of  England.  He  wrote  a  collection  of 
hymns  for  cottagers,  which  was  followed  by  one  hundred 
hymns  for  Sunday-schools.  Many  of  his  hymns  were 
written  week  by  week,  to  be  read  at  the  family  devotions 
at  his  own  home  on-  Sunday  morning.  He  was  a  friend 
of  Mrs.  Lake.     The  following  favorite  hymn  is  his : 

Little  travellers  Zionward, 

Each  one  entering  into  rest, 
In  the  kingdom  of  your  Lord, 

In  the  mansions  of  the  blest ; 


1 66  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

There  to  welcome  Jesus  waits, 

Gives  the  crown  his  followers  win; 

Lift  your  heads,  ye  golden  gates, 
Let  the  little  travellers  in. 

Who  are  they  whose  little  feet, 

Pacing  life's  dark  journey  through, 
Now  have  reached  that  heavenly  seat 

They  had  ever  kept  in  view  ? 
"  I,  from  Greenland's  frozen  land ;" 

"  I,  from  India's  sultry  plain;" 
"  I,  from  Afric's  barren  sand;" 

"  I,  from  islands  of  the  main." 

"  All  our  earthly  journey  passed. 

Every  tear  and  pain  gone  by, 
Here  together  met  at  last 

At  the  portal  of  the  sky. 
Each  the  welcome  '  Come  '  awaits, 

Conquerors  over  death  and  sin." 
Lift  your  heads,  ye  golden  gates, 

Let  the  little  travellers  in. 

19.  "  Land  in  sight !"  said  John  Adams,  when  dying. 
He  was  one  of  the  mutineers  of  the  "  Bounty."  He  had 
dwelt  on  Pitcairn  Island  for  forty  years,  building  up  a 
religious  community  in  that  "  Paradis-e  of  the  Pacific." 

"  Are  you  happy  .'*"  asked  one  who  stood  by .  his 
death-bed. 

"Rounding  the  cape  into  the  harbor,"  was  the  jubi- 
lant answer. 

Nearer  drew  the  saintly  man  to  the  celestial  pros- 
pects ;  calmer  became  the  haven. 

"  Let  go  the  anchor,"  he  exclaimed,  and  the  Christian 
pioneer  was  no  more. 


SUNDAY  SCHOOL  HYMNS.  167 

This  religious  experience  became  the  subject  of  the 
following  Sunday-school  hymn : 

Land  ahead  !  its  fruits  are  waving 
•  O'er  the  hills  of  fadeless  green ; 
And  the  living  waters  laving 

Shores  where  heavenly  forms  are  seen. 

Chorus — Rocks  and  storms  I  '11  fear  no  more, 
When  on  that  eternal  shore ; 
Drop  the  anchor  !  furl  the  sail ! 
I  am  safe  within  the  veil. 

Onward,  bark!  the  cape  I  'm  rounding; 

See,  the  blessed  wave  their  hands ; 
Hear  the  harps  of  God  resounding 

From  the  bright  immortal  bands. — Cho. 

There  let  go  the  anchor,  riding 

On  this  calm  and  silvery  bay ; 
Seaward  fast  the  tide  is  gliding, 

Shores  in  sunlight  stretch  away. — Cho. 

Now  we  're  safe  from  all  temptation, 

All  the  stonns  of  life  are  past ; 
Praise  the  Rock  of  our  salvation. 

We  are  safe  at  home  at  last. — Cho. 

20.  The  author  of  the  following  hymn,  which  is  one 
of  those  recent  productions  which  seem  to  be  growing  in 
the  affections  of  the  church,  is  Rev.  J.  H.  Gilmore,  now  a 
professor  in  Rochester  University,  New  York.  He  gives 
the  following  experience,  as  associated  with  its  origin : 

"  I  believe  myself  to  be  the  author  of  '  He  leadeth 
me.'  Further,  it  was  written  in  Philadelphia.  I  had 
made  a  talk  at  the  Wednesday  evening  lecture  of  the 
First  Baptist  church,  on  the  twenty-third  Psalm ;  and, 


1 68  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

while  a  few  of  us  were  developing  the  subject  a  little 
farther  in  Deacon  Watson's  parlor,  I  jotted  the  hymn 
down  in  pencil  precisely  as  it  now  stands — save  that  the 
refrain  has  since  been  added  by  another  hand — and 
pas^sed  the  paper  to  my  wife,  who  sent  it,  without  my 
knowledge,  to  the  '  Watchman  and  Reflector.' 

"  The  first  time  that  I  knew  it  had  found  its  way  into 
the  hymn-books,  was  on  the  day  on  which  I  first  entered 
the  Second  Baptist  chapel  in  Rochester,  to  take  a  view 
of  the  surroundings  before  appearing  before  the  church 
as  a  candidate.  'What  do  they  sing  in  their  social  meet- 
ings T  I  queried  ;  and  the  '  Devotional  Hymn  and  Tune 
Book'  opened,  of  its  own  accord,  to  my  own  hymn,  '  He 
leadeth  me.' " 

He  leadeth  me  !  Oh,  blessed  thought, 
Oh,  words  with  heavenly  comfort  fraught ; 
Whate'er  I  do,  where'er  I  be,  • 
Still  't  is  God's  hand  that  leadeth  me ! 

He  leadeth  me  !  he  leadeth  me  ! 

By  his  own  hand  he  leadeth  me ; 

His  faithful  follower  I  would  be, 

For  by  his  hand  he  leadeth  me. 

Sometimes  'mid  scenes  of  deepest  gloom, 
Sometimes  where  Eden's  bowers  bloom, 
By  waters  still,  o'er  troubled  sea — 
Still  't  is  His  hand  that  leadeth  me  ! 
He  leadeth  me,  etc. 

Lord,  I  would  clasp  thy  hand  in  mine, 
Nor  ever  murmur  nor  repine — 
Content,  whatever  lot  I  see, 
Since  't  is  my  God  that  leadeth  me. 
He  leadeth  me,  etc. 


SUNDAY-SCHOOL  HYMNS.  169 

And  when  my  task  on  earth  is  done, 
When,  by  thy  grace,  the  victory  's  won, 
E'en  death's  cold  wave  I  will  not  flee, 
Since  God  through  Jordan  leadeth  me. 

He  leadeth  me,  etc.  • 

21.  The  song,  "I  am  so  glad  that  our  Father  in 
Heaven,"  by  Mr.  P.  P.  Bliss,  an  American  composer, 
is  very  popular  in  Scotland  as  well  as  in  America,  and 
has  been  a  leading  tone  in  the  services  of  the  recent 
great  revivals  across  the  sea.  It  was  suggested  to  Mr. 
Bliss  by  hearing  the  chorus, 

"  Oh,  how  I  love  Jesus." 

The  thought  came  to  him,  "  I  have  sung  long  enough 

of  my  poor  love  to  Christ,  and  now  I  will  sing  of  his 

love  for  me."     Under  the  inspiration  of  this  thought,  he 

wrote, 

I  AM  so  glad  that  our  Father  in  heaven 
Tells  of  his  love  in  the  book  he  has  given; 
Wonderful  things  in  the  Bible  I  see. 
This  is  the  dearest— that  Jesus  loves  me. 

Though  I  forget  him,  and  wander  away, 
Kindly  he  follows  wherever  I  stray ; 
Back  to  his  dear,  loving  arms  would  I  flee, 
When  I  remember  that  Jesus  loves  me. 

Oh,  if  there  's  only  one  song  I  can  sing. 
When  in  his  beauty  I  see  the  great  King, 
This  shall  my  song  in  eternity  be — 
Oh,  what  a  wonder  that  Jesus  loves  me. 

22.  The  song,  "  I  gave  my  Life  for  thee,"  by  Miss 
F.  R.  Havergal,  was  probably  suggested  by  a  German 

story  of  Hymna.  15 


lyo  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

motto  under  a  picture  of  "  Christ  on  the  Cross."  It  is 
said  that  Count  Zinzendorf  owed  his  early  Christian 
experience  to  this  motto,  wliich  brought  vividly  before 
his  young  mind  his  obligations  to  Christ : 

I  GAVE  my  life  for  thee, 

My  precious  blood  I  shed, 
That  thou  might'st  ransomed  De 

And  quickened  from  the  dead. 
I  gave  my  life  for  thee  : 
What  hast  thou  given  for  me  ? 

My  Father's  house  of  light, 

My  rainbow-circled  throne, 
I  left  for  earthly  night, 

For  wanderings  sad  and  lone ; 
I  left  it  all  for  thee  ; 
Hast  thou  left  aught  for  me  ? 

And  I  have  brought  to  thee, 

Down  from  my  home  above, 
Salvation  full  and  free, 

My  pardon  and  my  love. 
Great  gifts  I  brought  to  thee ; 
What  hast  thou  brought  to  me  ? 

Oh  !  let  thy  life  be  given, 

Thy  years  for  me  be  spent, 
World-fetters  all  be  riven, 

And  joy  with  suffering  blent. 
I  gave  myself  for  thee  ; 
Give  thou  thyself  to  me. 


V.  SEAMEN'S  HYMNS. 


1.  FIERCE  WAS  THE  WILD  BILLOW. 

2.  JESUS,  LOVER  OF  MY  SOUL. 

3.  WHEN  THROUGH  THE  TORN  SAIL. 

4.  'LISTED  IN  THE  CAUSE  OF  SIN. 

5.  I  HEAR  THE  TEMPEST'S  AWFUL  SOUND. 


ORIGIN  OF  SEAMEN'S  HYMNS. 


The  principal  seamen's  hymn  of  the  early  church 
was  that  of  St.  Anatolius..  It  has  lately  been  introduced 
into  modern  psalmody,  being  one  of  the  happiest  transla- 
tions of  Dr.  John  Mason  Neale.  Dr.  Neale  has  not  only 
clearly  given  the  sense  of  the  original,  but  has  preserved 
the  part  of  the  Nicene  creed — the  "  God  of  God,"  "  Light 
of  Light,"  and  "Truth  of  Truth" — which  it  repeats.  Its 
inspiration  may  have  been  drawn  from  the  storms  that 
beset  the  church,  or  from  the  tempests  that  darkened 
the  Ionian  seas. 

Fierce  was  the  wild  billow, 

Dark  was  the  night ; 
Oars  labored  heavily, 

Foam  glimmered  white ; 
Mariners  trembled. 

Peril  was  nigh : 
Then  said  the  God  of  God, 

"  Peace  !  it  is  I." 

Ridge  of  the  mountain  wave, 

Lower  thy  crest ! 
Wail  of  Euroclydon,  - 

Be  thou  at  rest ! 
Peril  can  none  be. 

Sorrow  must  fly. 
When  saith  the  Light  of  Light, 

"Peace!  it  is  L" 
15* 


174  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Jesus,  deliverer ! 

Come  thou  to  me  ; 
Soothe  thou  my  voyaging    . 

Over  life's  sea. 
Thou,  when  the  storm  of  death 

Roars,  sweeping  by, 
Whisper,  O  Truth  of  Truth, 

"  Peace  !  it  is  I." 

The  origin  of  the  best  known  sailors'  hymns  is  inter- 
esting, most  of  them  being  produced  after  perilous  expe- 
riences at  sea.  Perhaps  no  hymn  is  more  sung  on  the 
water  than  Charles  Wesley's,  beginning, 

"Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul." 

It  was  written  in  1740,  shortly  after  Wesley's  return 
from  America  to  England,  and  during  the  first  stormy 
scenes  of  his  itinerant  preaching.  Whether  the  figures 
in  the  first  stanza  were  suggested  by  the  storms  of  the 
Atlantic,  which  the  writer  had  but  recently  encountered, 
or  by  the  storms  of  human  passion,  we  cannot  say.  But 
most  of  the  sea  hymns  of  Charles  Wesley  were  but  the 
unfoldings  of  actual  experiences.  In  his  journal  on  the 
Atlantic,  he  thus  describes  his  spiritual  conflicts  and  tri- 
umphs during  a  storm  :  "  I  prayed  for  power  to  pray,  for 
faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  continually  repeating  his  name,  till 
I  felt  the  virtue  of  it  at  last,  and  knew  I  abode  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty.  The  storm  was  at  its  height. 
At  four  o'clock,  the  ship  made  so  much  water,  that  the 
captain,  finding  it  impossible  otherwise  to  save  her  from 
sinking,  cut  down  the  mizen  mast.  In  this  dreadful 
mome  it,    1   bk'ss  God,  I  found   comfort   and  hope,  and 


ORIGIN  OF  SEAMEN'S  HYMNS.  175 

such  joy  in  finding  I  could  hope  as  the  world  can  neither 
give  nor  take  away.  I  had  that  conviction  of  the  powet 
of  God  present  with  me,  overruling  fear,  and  raising  me 
above  what  I  am  by  nature,  as  surpassed  all  rational  evi- 
dence." On  the  storm  subsiding,  he  wrote :  "  Towards 
morning  the  sea  heard  and  obeyed  the  divine  voice, 
'  Peace,  be  still.'  My  first  business  to-day — may  it  be 
the  first  business  of  all  my  days — was  to  offer  up  the 
sacrifice  of  praise  and  thanksgiving." 

"  All  praise  to  the  Lord, 
Who  rules  with  a  word 
Th'  untractable  sea." 

Bishop  Heber's  matchless  hymn  beginning, 

"  When  through  the  torn  sail 

The  wild  tempest  is  streaming," 

was  written  after  similar  experiences.  The  bishop  took 
an  affectionate  interest  in  the  humblest  sailors  during 
his  voyages.  "  Only  to  think,"  said  a  grateful  seaman, 
"  of  such  a  great  man  as  the  bishop  coming  between 
decks  to  pray  with  such  poor  fellow's  as  we." 

"  O  Jesus  I  once  tossed 

On  the  breast  of  the  billow, 
Aroused  by  the  shriek 

Of  despair  from  thy  pillow, 
High  now  in  thy  glory, 

The  mariner  cherish, 
Who  cries  in  his  anguish, 

'  Lord,  save,  or  we  perish.'  " 

Many  of  our  readers  have  doubtless  seen  in  old  hymn- 
books  a  spirited  hymn  beginning  with  this  singular 
stanza : 


176  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  'Listed  in  the  cause  of  sin, 
Why  should  a  good  be  evil  ? 
Music,  alas  !  has  too  long  been 
Pressed  to  obey  the  devil." 

The  hymn  is  ascribed  to  Charles  Wesley,  and  the 
quoted  stanza  must  have  struck  the  reader  as  a  marked 
exception  to  the  mellifluent  numbers  of  this  most  careful 
and  cultured  lyrist.  It  was  composed  amid  the  roughest 
scenes  of  his  itinerant  preaching  in  Cornwall,  when  mobs 
set  upon  him  in  every  town,  among  whom  were  the 
wreckers,  a  class  of  sea-robbers  long  passed  away. 

The  Cornish  seamen  always  loved  to  sing  that  hymn, 
and  the  Old  Methodists  of  Cornwall  delighted  to  tell  the 
story  of  its  origin. 

"  My  father  knew  all  about  that  hymn,"  said  a  Cornish 
man  to  a  recent  English  writer.  "  Mr.  C.  Wesley  had 
just  begun  a  hymn  in  the  open-air,  intending  to  preach 
to  the  gathering  crowd,  when  some  half-drunken  fellows 
came  and  struck  up  the  tune  of  '  Nancy  Dawson.'  Be- 
tween the  hymn  and  their  song  it  was  sorry  music,  but 
the  preacher's  ear  was  quick  enough  to  catch  the  metre 
of  their  song,  and  to  master  their  tune  there  and  then.  He 
invited  them  to  come  again  by-and-by,  when  he  would  be 
there  and  sing  a  song  to  their  tune.  They  came  and  he 
gave  out  a  new  hymn  made  for  the  occasion.  The  merry 
tars  seemed  to  enjoy  the  hymn  more  than  their  old  song. 

"  A  cheery  thing,"  added  the  Cornishman,  "  it  was  to 
hear  my  father  sing  it,  just  as  the  old  folks,  he  said,  used 
to  sing  it.  I  used  to  sing  it  with  him.  He  and  I  shall 
join  again  by-and-by,  and  '  Heaven  be  ours  for  ever.' " 


ORIGIN  OF  SEAMEN'S  HYMNS.  177 

The  following  stanzas  exhibit  the  spirit  of  the  hymn ; 

"Come  let  us  see  if  Jesus'  love 
Will  not  as  well  inspire  us  ; 
This  is  the  theme  of  those  above  : 
This  upon  earth  shall  fire  us. 

"  Say,  if  your  hearts  are  tuned  to  sing, 
Is  there  a  subject  greater? 
Harmony  all  its  strains  may  bring, 
But  Jesus'  name  is  sweeter. 

"  Then  let  us  in  his  praises  join, 
Triumph  in  his  salvation, 
Glory  ascribe  to  love  divine, 
Worship  and  adoration. 

"Heaven  already  is  begun, 
Open  to  each  believer ; 
Only  believe  and  still  go  on, 
Heaven  is  ours  for  ever." 

About  one  hundred  and  twenty  years  ago,  there  wan- 
dered among  the  palm  groves  of  Sierra  Leone,  a  young 
Englishman,  who  had  fallen  so  low  as  to  be  shunned 
even  by  the  rude  traders  on  the  coast,  and  by  the  Afri- 
can slaves.  He  had  little  clothing ;  he  went  hungry, 
and  often  was  obliged  to  subsist  upon  roots.  His  life 
was  not  only  stained  with  vice,  but  with  viciousness  in  its 
most  disgusting  forms.  He  had  a  pious  mother,  and  the 
memory  of  her  counsels  and  prayers,  like  good  angels, 
followed  him  in  all  of  his  wanderings.  Escaping  at  last 
from  the  coast,  he  secured  a  passage  for  England. 

During  the  homeward  voyage  the  ship  encountered 
a  terrible  storm.     "  I  began  to  pray,"  he  said.     "  I  could 


178  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

not  utter  the  prayer  of  faith.  My  prayer  was  Hke  the 
cry  of  the  ravens,  which  yet  the  Lord  does  not  disdain 
to  hear."  The  storm  subsided,  but  the  young  man,  sick 
at  last  of  sin,  continued  to  pray.  God  revealed  his  sal- 
vation to  him  on  the  ocean,  and  out  of  this  deep  expe- 
rience, came  the  sailor's  hymn,  beginning, 

"  I  hear  the  tempest's  awful  sound, 
I  feel  the  vessel's  quick  rebound ; 
And  fear  might  now  my  bosom  fill, 
But  Jesus  tells  me,  '  Peace  !  be  stili. 

'  In  this  dread  hour  I  cling  to  thee, 
My  Saviour  crucified  for  me. 
If  that  I  perish  be  thy  will, 
In  death,  Lord,  whisper,  '  Peace  !  be  still,'  " 

That  young  man  was  John  Newton,  the  rector  of  St, 
Woolnoth,  London,  the  friend  of  Cowper,  and  the  writer 
of  a  part  of  the  Olney  Hymns. 


VI.  INDIAN  HYMNS. 


1.  IN  DE  DARK  WOOD,  NO  INDIAN  NIGH. 

2.  WHEN  SHALL   WE  THREE  MEET  AGAIN. 

3.  PARTED  MANY  A   TOIL-SPENT  YEAR. 


INDIAN  HYMNS. 


In  de  dark  wood,  no  Indian  nigh, 
Den  me  look  heaben,  and  send  up  cr,', 

Upon  my  knees  so  low. 
Dat  God  on  high,  in  shinee  place, 
See  me  in  night,  with  teary  face, 

De  priest,  he  tell  me  so. 

God  send  he  angels  take  me  care ; 
He  come  heself  and  hear  my  prayer, 

If  inside  heart  do  pray. 
God  see  me  now,  he  know  me  here. 
He  say,  poor  Indian,  neber  fear, 

Me  wid  you  night  and  day. 

So  me  lub  God  wid  inside  heart ; 
He  fight  for  me,  he  take  my  part, 

He  save  my  life  before. 
God  lub  poor  Indian  in  de  wood; 
So  me  lub  God,  and  dat  be  good ; 

Me  '11  praise  him  two  times  more. 

When  me  be  old,  me  head  be  gray, 
Den  he  no  lebe  me,  so  he  say : 

Me  wid  you  till  you  die. 
Den  take  me  up  to  shinee  place. 
See  white  man,  red  man,  black  man's  face, 

All  happy  'like  on  high. 
16 


1 82  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Few  days,  den  God  will  come  to  me, 
He  knock  off  chains,  he  set  me  free, 

Den  take  me  up  on  high. 
Den  Indian  sing  his  praises  blest, 
And  lub  and  praise  him  wid  de  rest, 

And  neber,  neber  cry. 

The  above  hymn,  which  may  be  found  in  different 
forms  in  old  New  England  tracts  and  hymn-books,  and 
which  used  to  be  sung  in  Methodist  conference  and 
prayer-meetings,  in  the  same  way  that  old  slave-hymns 
and  the  "Jubilee  Singers"  refrains  are  sometimes  sung 
now.  was  composed  by  William  Apes,  a  converted  In- 
dian, who  was  born  in  Massachusetts  in  1798.  His 
father  was  a  white  man,  but  married  an  Indian  descend- 
ed from  the  family  of  King  Philip,  the  Indian  warrior 
and  the  last  of  the  Indian  chiefs.  His  grandmother  was 
the  king's  granddaughter,  as  he  claimed,  and  was  famous 
for  her  personal  beauty.  He  caused  his  autobiography 
and  religious  experience  to  be  published.  The  original 
hymn  is  quite  long,  and  contains  some  singular  and 
characteristic  expressions. 

In  the  early  days  of  New  England,  before  the  Indian 
missions  had  been  brought  to  an  end  by  the  sweeping 
away  of  the  tribes,  several  fine  hymns  were  composed  by 
Indians,  and  wece  used  in  the  churches.  The  best  known 
is  that  beginning, 

"  When  shall  we  three  meet  again  ?" 

It  was  composed  by  three  Indians  at  the  planting  of  a 
memorial  pine  on  leaving  Dartmouth  College,  where  they 


INDIAN  H\  'MNS.  1 8  3 

had  been  receiving  a  Christian  education.     The  stanzas 
which  follow  are  particularly  fine : 

"  Though  in  distant  lands  we  sigh, 
Parched  beneath  a  burning  sky, 
Though  the  deep  between  us  rolls, 
Friendship  shall  unite  our  souls  ; 
And  in  fancy's  wide  domain, 
There  we  three  shall  meet  again. 

"  When  the  dreams  of  life  are  fled, 
When  its  wasted  lamps  are  dead, 
When  in  cold  oblivion's  shade 
Beauty,  health,  and  strength  are  laid, 
Where  immortal  spirits  reign, 
There  we  three  shall  meet  again." 

These  Indians  afterwards  met  in  the  same  place  and 
composed  another  hymn,  which  is  as  beautiful  and  touch- 
ing.    It  begins : 

"  Parted  many  a  toil-spent  year, 
Pledged  in  youth  to  memory  dear, 
Still  to  friendship's  magnet  true, 
We  our  social  joys  renew ; 
Bound  by  love's  unsevered  chain, 
Here  on  earth  we  meet  again." 


VII.  RECENT  HYMN-WRITERS 
AND  THEIR  HYMNS. 


1.  FREDERICK  WILLIAM  FABER. 

2.  REV.  JOHN  KEBLE. 

3.  HORATIUS  BONAR,  D.  D. 

4.  CHARLOTTE  ELLIOTT. 

5.  SARAH  FLOWER  ADAMS. 

6.  PHCEBE  CARY. 

7.  RA  Y  PALMER,  D.  D. 

8.  REV.  HENRY  FRANCIS  LYTE. 

9.  REV.  JOHN  HENRY  NEWMAN. 


16* 


RECENT  HYMN-WRITERS  AND 
THEIR  HYMNS. 


FABER. 

Frederick  William  Faber,  the  author  of  some  of 
Ihe  most  finished,  ornate,  and  peculiarly  beautiful  poems 
of  the  present  generation  of  hymn-writers,  was  born 
in  1815,  was  early  schooled  at  Harrow,  and  graduated 
at  Oxford,  in  1836.  He  was  a  minister  of  the  Estab- 
lished church  for  some  ten  years,  but  at  the  age  of 
thirty-one  he  became  a  communicant  of  the  church  of 
Rome.  After  the  change  in  his  views,  he  established  a 
brotherhood  of  priests  at  London,  and  lived  a  somewhat 
secluded  and  ascetic  life.     He  died  in  1863. 

His  hymns  are  flowers  from  both  Catholic  and  Prot- 
estant soil,  but  are  generally  as  liberal  in  spirit  as  they 
are  pure  in  diction  and  lofty  in  sentiment.  He  had 
many  religious  doubts  and  conflicts,  and  his  life,  though 
uneventful,  was  one  of  peculiar  experiences.  He  died  in 
the  prime  of  manhood,  yet  lived  to  say : 

"  A  weary  actor,  I  would  fain 
Be  quit  of  my  long  part, 
The  burden  of  unquiet  life 
Lies  heavy  on  my  heart." 

Both  of  the  hymns  which  we  give,  are  from  a  collec- 
tion  of   Fabcr's   poems,   called    "  Oratory    Hymns,"'   and 


i88  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

are  colored  by  his  own  religious  feelings.  They  indi- 
cate his  unrest,  and  his  expectation  of  peace  at  last. 
They  are  founa  in  both  Protestant  and  Catholic  collec- 
tions. 

I. 

Hark  !  hark,  my  soul !  angelic  songs  are  swelling 

O'er  earth's  green  fields  and  ocean's  wave-beat  shore ; 
How  sweet  the  truth  those  blessed  strains  are  telling 
Of  that  new  life  when  sin  shall  be  no  more  ! 
Angels  of  Jesus, 

Angels  of  light. 
Singing  to  welcome 

The  pilgrims  of  the  night? 

Onward  we  go,  for  still  we  hear  them  singing, 
"  Come,  weary  souls,  for  Jesus  bids  you  come;" 

And  through  the  dark,  its  echoes  sweetly  ringing, 
The  music  of  the  gospel  leads  us  home. 
Angels  of  Jesus,  etc. 

Far,  far  away,  like  bells  at  evening  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and  sea, 

And  laden  souls  by  thousands  meekly  stealing 
Kind  Shepherd,  turn  their  weary  steps  to  thee. 
Angels  of  Jesus,  etc. 

Rest  comes  at  length,  though  life  be  long  and  dreary, 
The  day  must  dawn,  and  darksome  night  be  past ; 

All  journeys  end  in  welcome  to  the  weary, 

And  heaven,  the  heart's  true  home,  will  come  at  last. 
Angels  of  Jesus,  etc. 

Angels,  sing  on  !  your  faithful  watches  keeping; 

Sing  us  sweet  fragments  of  the  songs  above; 
Till  morning's  joy  shall  end  the  night  of  weeping, 

And  life's  long  night  shall  break  in  endless  love. 
Angels  of  Jesus,  etc. 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  1 8^ 

II. 
O  Paradise,  O  Paradise ! 

Who  doth  not  crave  for  rest  ? 
Who  would  not  seek  the  happy  land 
Where  they  that  loved  are  blest  ? 
Wliere  loyal  hearts  and  true 

Stand  ever  in  the  light, 
All  rapture  through  and  through, 
In  God's  most  holy  sight. 

O  Paradise,  O  Paradise! 

The  world  is  growing  old  ; 
Who  would  not  be  at  rest  and  free 

Where  love  is  never  cold  ? 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

0  Paradise,  O  Paradise ! 
'T  is  weary  waiting  here  ; 

1  long  to  be  where  Jesus  is. 
To  feel,  to  see  him  near ; 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

0  Paradise,  O  Paradise  ! 
I  want  to  sin  no  more, 

1  want  to  be  as  pure  on  earth 
As  on  thy  spotless  shore ; 

Where  loyal  hearts  and  true,  etc. 

O  Paradise,  O  Paradise  ! 

I  greatly  long  to  see 
The  special  place  my  dearest  Lord 
In  love  prepares  for  me; 
Where  loyal  hearts  and  true 

Stand  ever  in  the  light. 
All  rapture  through  and  througli. 
In  God's  most  holv  sight. 


I90  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

KEBLE. 

Sun  of  my  soul !  thou  Saviour  dear, 
It  is  not  night  if  thou  be  near: 
Oh,  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 
To  hide  thee  from  thy  servant's  eyes. 

When  the  soft  dews  of  kindly  sleep 
My  wearied  eyelids  gently  steep, 
Be  my  last  thought,  how  sweet  to  rest 
For  ever  on  my  Saviour's  breast. 

Abide  with  me  from  morn  till  eve, 
For  without  thee  I  cannot  live  ; 
Abide  with  me  when  night  is  nigh, 
For  without  thee  I  dare  not  die. 

If  some  poor  wandering  child  of  thine 
Have  spurned,  to-day,  the  voice  divine. 
Now,  Lord,  the  gracious  work  begin ; 
Let  him  no  more  lie  down  m  sin. 

Watch  by  the  sick ;  enrich  the  poor 
With  blessings  from  thy  boundless  store : 
Be  every  mourner's  sleep  to-night 
Like  infant's  slumbers  pure  and  light. 

Come  near  and  bless  us  when  we  wake. 
Ere  through  the  world  our  way  we  take ; 
Till  in  the  ocean  of  thy  love 
We  lose  ourselves  in  heaven  above. 

This  hymn  is  from  Keble's  "  Christian  Year,"  a  book 
that  embodies  many  choice  Christian  experiences,  which 
have  been  recognized  with  gratitude  by  the  universal 
church,  although  especially  written  for  those  whose  wor- 
ship follows  the  set  forms  of  the  Church  of  England. 
Mr.  Keble  lived  a  quiet,  retired  life,  and  drank  from 
spiritual  fountains  in  secluded  places  ;  but  his  rare  gifts 


RECENT  H\ 'MX-  WRITERS.  19 1 

were  devoted  to  the  service  of  others,  and  he  has  won  by 
the  affectionate  purity  and  the  deep  spiritual  insight  of 
his  poetic  writings,  a  large  place  in  the  heart  of  the 
Christian  world. 

We  condense  from  an  English  periodical  some  ac- 
count of  his  uneventful  yet  ever-fruitful  life. 

As  beautiful  and  venerable  a  reputation  as  any  treas- 
ured up  in  the  annals  of  the  English  church,  is  that  of 
the  author  of  the  "  Christian  Year,"  for  upwards  of  thirty 
years  vicar  of  Hursley  and  rector  of  Otterbourne.  It  is 
not  too  much  to  say  that  when  he  breathed  his  last  at 
seventy-four  years  of  age,  in  the  spring  of  1866,  he  not 
only  did  so,  within  the  recognition  of  men  of  every  kind 
of  Christian  belief,  in  the  odor  of  sanctity,  but  that  he 
had  enjoyed  already  for  half  a  century  what  was  thence- 
forth embalmed  by  death  into  an  exquisite  memory,  the 
blended  fame  of  a  saint  and  a  poet.  His  whole  life,  it 
may  be  said  quite  truly,  was  passed  within  the  shadow 
of  the  sanctuary.  For  fifty  years  together,  his  father, 
who  survived  until  his  ninetieth  year,  was  the  vicar  of 
Coin  Saint  Aldwyn.  There  it  was,  under  the  roof-beams 
of  the  old  parsonage,  that  John  Keble  was  born,  on  the 
25th  April,  1792. 

On  the  20th  May,  18 13,  Keble  had  taken  his  degree 
of  M.  A.  Parochial  work  began  for  him  immediately 
upon  his  ordination.  It  ceased  only  with  his  life — fifty 
years  afterwards. 

In  1823  Keble  withdrew  from  a  conspicuous  and 
lucrative  position  as  tutor  and  examiner  at  the  Univer- 
sity of  Oxford,  and  retired  to  the  seclusion  of  Fairford, 


192  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

entering  upon  duties  as  curate  of  three  small  parishes ; 
an  act  of  Christian  humility  whose  golden  rewards  were 
yet  unseen.  The  three  curacies  together  did  not  include 
a  population  of  three  thousand.  The  entire  receipts  ac- 
cruing to  him  in  connection  with  them  all,  did  not  amount 
to  more  than  about  ;^ioo  a  year.  He  was  happy  in  his 
surroundings,  however,  and  in  his  avocations,  but  above 
all  thrice  happy  in  his  sacred  calling.  Covertly,  too,  he 
was  wandering  all  this  while,  since  as  far  back  as  in 
1819,  in  a  green  and  flowery  pleasaunce  of  his  own,  in 
which  his  serene  fancy  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shadiest 
place,  and  where  his  spirit  secretly  heard  the  plash  and 
tinkling  of  celestial  fountains.  Little  by  little,  one  by 
one,  he  was  composing  at  Oxford,  at  Fairford,  by  the 
Isis,  by  the  Coin,  in  the  gardens,  in  the  meadows,  un- 
known except  to  the  inner  circle  of  his  most  intimate 
friends,  those  beautiful  lyrics  which,  under  the  title  of 
the  "  Christian  Year,"  when  completed,  some  four  years 
after  the  date  at  which  we  have  arrived,  sprang  at  once 
into  such  resplendent  celebrity,  achieving  a  success  that 
has  been  maintained  undiminished  ever  since,  and  that 
is  simply  and  absolutely  unparalleled. 

Another  temptation  was  held  out  to  Keble  early  in 
1824.  William  Hart  Coleridge  had  just  then  been  select- 
ed to  fill  one  of  the  two  newly-created  sees  in  the  West 
Indies,  as  Bishop  of  Barbadoes.  A  couple  of  archdea- 
conries were  in  his  gift,  each  worth  ;^2,ooo  a  year,  and 
one  of  these  he  urgently  pressed  upon  Keble's  accept- 
ance. Dazzled  though  he  may  have  been  for  a  passing 
moment  by  this  offer  to  advance  him  per  saltjim  to  the 


RECENT  HYMN-WRITERS.  193 

position  of  archdeacon  of  Barbadoes,  the  gifted  but  sim- 
ple-minded curate  of  Southrop,  Eastleach,  and  Burthorpe 
declined  it,  nevertheless,  unhesitatingly.  His  home-ties, 
his  father's  increasing  age  and  infirmities,  his  tender  re- 
gard for  his  two  sisters — his  different  affection  for  whom 
he  prettily  typified  by  speaking  of  his  "  wife  "  Margaret 
and  his  "sweetheart"  Mary  Anne— held  him  securely,  by 
preference,  to  his  lowlier  position  as  a  working  curate 
in  Gloucestershire.  The  song-bird  that  soars  highest 
towards  heaven  among  the  dews -and  sunbeams,  makes 
its  nest,  by  preference,  not  in  an  eyrie  or  in  the  tree-top, 
but  among  the  grass  or  between  the  furrows  of  a  cornfield. 
During  eight  years  altogether — that  is,  from  18 19  to 
1827 — Keble  had  been  gradually  preparing  what  at  length 
made  its  appearance  as  his  masterpiece :  "  The  Christian 
Year."  It  had  germinated,  grown,  and  expanded  under 
his  hand  very  gradually  and  at  first  almost  imperceptibly. 
It  was  with  no  affected  reluctance  that  he  at  length, 
yielding  to  the  importunity  of  those  immediately  around 
him,  consented  to  its  appearance.  His  father,  who  was 
every  day,  it  seemed,  descending  nearer  and  nearer  tow- 
ards the  entrance  of  the  Valley  of  the  Shadow,  expressed 
an  eager  solicitude  to  witness  its  publication.  The  man- 
uscript passed  into  the  printer's  hands,  and  the  proofs, 
one  by  one,  found  their  way  to  Fairford  for  the  author's 
timid  and  ever-wincing  correction.  His  own  preference 
would  have  been  that  they  should  have  appeared  post- 
humously. Against  his  judgment,  however,  it  was  de- 
cided otherwise  by  those  to  whose  opinions  he  deferred. 
On  the  23d  June,  1827,  the  "Christian  Year"  was  first 


194  '^'^i^  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

published.  It  stole  its  way  into  the  public  heart  instant- 
ly. It  influenced  all  it  came  across  with  a  spell  of  fasci- 
nation. Its  success  was  emotional  rather  than  a  matier 
of  reasoning  and  of  criticism.  Keble's  readers  were  like 
those  who  listened  to  some  sweet  and  delicious  melody 
chanted  by  a  singer  who  was  hidden  from  view  in  the 
twilight.  Their  hearts  were  moved,  their  nerves  thrilled, 
their  eyes  glistened,  they  were  charmed  by  a  voice  that 
was  at  once  new  and  yet  familiar.  Before  the  December 
of  that  year  was  out,  a  second  edition  had  been  required. 
In  1828,  the  third  made  its  appearance.  One  followed 
another  in  rapid  succession.  When  but  a  little  more 
than  a  quarter  of  a  century  had  elapsed,  forty-three  edi- 
tions had  been  exhausted,  108,000  copies  had  already 
even  then  passed  into  circulation.  Before  its  author's 
life  was  completed  and  crowned  by  a  death  so  serene 
and  calm  that  it  was  a  veritable  euthanasia,  the  astonish 
ing  number  of  ninety-two  editions  of  the  "  Christian  Year" 
had  passed  from  the  hands  of  his  publishers. 


HORATIUS  BONAR,  D.  D. 
HoRATius  BoNAR,  whosc  hymns  are  among  the  sweet 
minor  tones  that  are  yearly  growing  in  the  love  of  the 
church,  was  born  in  Edinburgh,  in  1808,  and  was  educa- 
cated  at  Edinburgh  University.  Religious  impressions 
were  early  made  upon  his  mind,  and  his  mental  conflicts 
ended  in  the  peace  of  Christ : 

"  I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 
'  Come  unto  me  and  rest : 
Lay  down,  thou  weary  one,  lay  down 
Thy  head  upon  my  breast.' 


RECEXT  IIYMX-  WRITERS.  195 

I  came  to  Jesus  as  I  was, 

Weary,  and  worn,  and  sad, 
I  found  in  him  a  resting-place. 

And  he  has  made  me  glad. 

"  I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say, 

'  I  am  this  dark  world's  light. 
Look  unto  me,  thy  morn  shall  rise 

And  all  thy  day  be  bright.' 
I  looked  to  Jesus,  and  I  found 

In  him  my  star,  my  sun ; 
And  in  that  light  of  life  I  '11  walk. 

Till  all  my  journey's  done." 

In  his  early  manhood  he  felt  an  inward  inspiration  to 
become  a  minister,  and  to  give  his  life  to  others,  and  he 
obeyed  the  voice  speaking  within  him,  and  was  ordained  at 
Kelso  in  1837. 

He  entered  upon  the  work  of  carrying  the  Word  of 
Life  to  others,  with  an  unusual  ardor  and  unsparing  zeal. 
The  young  minister  began  to  publish  tracts  and  hymns,  on 
subjects  connected  with  his  religious  work  and  inward 
experience.  His  Kelso  tracts  began  to  appear  in  1839. 
One  of  these  entitled  "  Believe  and  Live"  attained  tlie  circu- 
lation of  750,000  copies.  Christ  and  the  love  of  Christ 
were  the  themes  of  his  sermons,  his  tracts,  and  his  songs : 

"  I  lay  my  wants  on  Jesus  ; 

All  fulness  dwells  in  him ; 
He  heals  all  my  diseases. 

He  doth  my  soul  redeem. 
I  lay  my  griefs  on  Jesus, 

My  burdens  and  my  cares  ; 
He  from  them  all  releases, 

He  all  my  sorrow  shares. 


196  THE  SrORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  I  rest  my  soul  on  Jesus, 

This  weary  soul  of  mine  ; 
His  right  hand  me  embraces, 

I  on  his  breast  recline. 
I  love  the  name  of  Jesus, 

Immanuel,  Christ,  the  Lord  ; 
Like  fragrance  on  the  breezes 

His  name  abroad  is  poured." 

He  was  an  advocate  of  the  F'ree  Church  of  Scotland, 
and  was  one  of  the  glorious  band  of  ministers  who  re- 
nounced their  livings,  when,  in  1843,  the  church  threw 
off  the  thraldom  of  state.  He  has  published  several  vol- 
umes of  sacred  poetry,  the  best  known  of  which  is  "  Hymns 
of  Faith  and  Hope."  As  a  lyric  poet  he  has  hard- 
ly a  superior.  The  following — an  expression  of  personal 
experience — is  perhaps  one  of  his  best-known  and  most 
expressive  hymns : 

Fade,  fade  each  earthly  joy  ; 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
Break,  every  tender  tie  ; 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Jesus  alone  can  bless  ; 
Dark  is  the  wilderness  ; 
Earth  has  no  resting-place; 

Jesus  is  mine ! 

Tempt  not  my  soul  away ; 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
Here  would  I  ever  stay ; 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Perishing  things  of  clay, 
Born  but  for  one  brief  day. 
Pass  from  my  heart  away, 

■Jesus  is  mine  ! 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  197 

Farewell,  ye  dreams  of  night, 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Lost  in  this  dawning  bright, 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 
All  that  my  soul  has  tried 
Left  but  a  dismal  void  ; 
Jesus  has  satisfied ; 

Jesus  is  mine ! 

Farewell,  mortality : 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Welcome,  eternity : 

Jesus  is  mine ! 
Welcome,  O  loved  and  blest ; 
Welcome,  sweet  scenes  of  rest ; 
Welcome,  my  Saviour's  breast : 

Jesus  is  mine  ! 


CHARLOTTE  ELLIOTT. 

This  hymn  writer,  to  whom  we  have  made  a  brief 
reference  elsewhere,  in  connection  with  the  hymn,  be- 
gianing  "  Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea,"  was  the  third 
daughter  of  Charles  Elliott,  Esq.,  of  Clapham  and  Brigh- 
ton, England,  and  a  granddaughter  of  Rev.  John  Venn, 
a  name  conspicuous  in  the  great  religious  awakening  of 
the  last  century.  She  was  born  on  March  18,  1789.  She 
lived  to  extreme  old  ege,  but  was  for  the  greater  parr 
of  her  life  an  invalid.     She  died  Sept.  22,  1871.  ^ 

She  was  highly  educated  and  accomplished,  and, 
possessing  a  warm  social  nature,  she  eagerly  sought  the 
companionship  of  gay  society  in  an  interval  of  restored 
health  in  early  life.  In  the  midst  of  this  gay  opening,  she 
fell  ill,  and  her  mind  became  exercised  about  religion. 

17* 


igS  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

After  great  inward  conflicts,  and  much  reading  and 
praying,  she  was  led  to  an  insight  of  the  way  of  life,  and 
was  enabled  to  accept  Christ  as  her  Saviour  and  Deliv- 
erer, thus  fulfilling  in  spirit  the  sentiment  which  she 
afterwards  embodied  in  her  immortal  hymn : 

Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea, 
But  that  thy  blood  was  shed  for  me, 
And  that  thou  bid'st  me  come  to  thee, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 
Just  as  I  am,  and  waiting  not 
To  rid  my  soul  of  one  dark  blot, 
To  thee,  whose  blood  can  cleanse  each  spot, 

O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  though  tossed  about 
With  many  a  conflict,  many  a  doubt. 
Fightings  and  fears  within,  without, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  poor,  wretched,  blind — 
Sight,  riches,  healing  of  the  mind. 
Yea,  all  I  need,  in  thee  to  find, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  thou  wilt  receive, 
Wilt  welcome,  pardon,  cleanse,  relieve  ; 
Because  thy  promise  I  believe, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  thy  love  unknown. 
Has  broken  every  barrier  down  ; 
Now  to  be  thine,  yea,  thine  alone, 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 

Just  as  I  am,  of  that  free  love 
The  breadth,  length,  depth,  and  height,  to  prove, 
Here  for  a  season,  then  above — 
O  Lamb  of  God,  I  come. 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  199 

She  became  a  close  student  of  the  Bible,  and  devoted 
the  whole  of  her  time  and  talent  to  religious  work. 
She  loved  poetry,  and  possessed  the  gift  of  expressing 
her  thoughts  and  feelings  in  verse,  and  this  gift  she  also 
dedicated  to  the  service  of  God. 

In  1823,  a  series  of  family  bereavements  led  her  to  a 
higher  religious  life,  and,  under  the  inspiration  of  glow- 
ing conceptions  of  the  love  of  Christ,  and  a  conscientious 
zeal  for  the  conversion  of  souls,  she  joined  a  district  so- 
ciety, under  the  direction  of  Mrs.  Fry  and  Rev.  Edward 
Irving.  She  became  an  active  worker  for  the  church, 
and  was  also  on  intimate  terms  with  Wilberforce,  and 
an  advocate  of  his  schemes  of  philanthropy. 

In  1829,  she  became  a  chronic  invalid.  The  lesson  of 
resignatipn  was  at  first  hard  to  learn  ;  but  she  was  pa- 
tient and  teachable,  and  was  brought  through  suffering 
to  experience  those  heavenly  dispositions  of  mind  that 
make  one  strong  in  weakness,  and  bring  to  the  soul  the 
luminous  discoveries  of  Christian  faith.  She  writes  of 
this  experience : 

"  Oh,  many  hard  struggles  and  apparently  fruitless 
ones  it  has  cost  me  to  become  resigned  to  the  appoint- 
ments of  my  Heavenly  Father.  Biit  the  stniggle  is  now 
over.  He  knows,  and  he  alone,  what  it  is,  day  after  day, 
hour  after  hour,  to  fight  against  bodily  feelings  of  almost 
overpowering  weakness,  languor  and  exhaustion,  to  resolve 
not  to  yield  to  slothfulness,  depression,  and  instability, 
such  as  the  body  causes  me  to  long  to  indulge,  but  to 
rise  every  morning  determined  to  take  for  my  motto: 
'  If  any  man  will  come  after  Me,  let  him  deny  himself, 


200  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

take  up  his  cross  daily  and  follow  Me.'"    This  discipline 

and  resignation  became  the  subject  of  one  of  her  most 

loved  hymns  : 

My  God,  my  Father,  while  I  stray 

Far  from  my  home,  on  life  's  rough  way, 

0  teach  me  from  my  heart  to  say, 

"Thy  will  be  done." 

Though  dark  my  path,  and  sad^  my  lot. 
Let  me  be  still  and  murmur  not. 
Or  breathe  the  prayer  divinely  taught, 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

What  though  in  lonely  grief  I  sigh 
For  friends  beloved  no  longer  nigh. 
Submissive  still  would  I  reply, 

"  Thy  will  be  done." 
If  thou  shouldst  call  me  to  resign 
What  most  I  prize — it  ne'er  was  mine  ; 

1  only  yield  thee  what  is  thine — 

"  Thy  will  be  done." 

Let  but  my  fainting  heart  be  blest 

With  thy  sweet  Spirit  for  its  guest, 

My  God,  to  thee  I  leave  the  rest : 

"  Thy  will  be  done." 

Renew  my  will  from  day  to  day. 
Blend  it  with  thine,  and  take  away 
All  that  now  makes  it  hard  to  say, 
"  Thy  will  be  done." 

The  larger  number  of  her  hymns  were  published  un- 
der the  following  circumstances:  In  1834,  she  became 
acquainted  with  Miss  Kiernan,  a  benevolent  woman  of 
Dublin,  who,  in  her  last  illness,  began  the  preparation  of 
a  hymn-book  for  invalids.  After  her  death,  the  work  was 
put  into  the  hands  of  Charlotte  Elliott  to  finish.     It  was 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  2 o  1 

a  work  in  which  she  was  in  sympathy,  and  peculiarly 
fitted  to  complete.  She  added  a  large  number  oi 
hymns  of  her  own  composition,  among  them  that  begin- 
ning "Just  as  I  am."  The  sale  of  this  collection  of 
hymns  reached  nearly  20,000  copies. 

The  hymn  "  Just  as  I  am"  was  printed,  unknown  to 
the  writer,  on  leaflets,  for  gratuitous  distribution,  and 
her  physician  brought  one  of  these  to  her,  not  knowing 
that  she  had  written  it.  "I  know,"  he  said,  "that  this 
will  please  you."  It  did  indeed  please  her  to  know  that 
in  her  own  helplessness  her  life  was  helpful  to  others. 

She  lived  to  be  an  octogenarian.  Her  last  manifes- 
tation of  consciousness  on  her  sick-bed  was  when  her 
sister  read  to  her  the  Scripture  lesson  on  the  morning  of 
her  death  :  "  Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  his  beau- 
ty." She  was  observed  to  raise  her  eyes  to  heaven,  and 
a  sudden  glow  of  joy  seemed  to  illumine  her  countenance. 


SARAH  FLOWER  ADAMS. 

THE  AUTHOR  OF   "NEARER,   MY  GOD,   TO  THEE." 

Perhaps  no  hymn,  since  the  publication  of  Perronet's 
"  All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name,"  in  1785,  has  received 
so  wide  and  deserving  a  popularity  as  that  beginning, 
"  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee."  It  finds  a  place  in  all  collections 
of  hymns  in  the  English  tongue,  and  is  a  favorite  alike 
in  Trinitarian  and  Unitarian  churches.  It  has  been  trans- 
lated int-o  many  languages,  and  has  followed  the  triumphs 
of  the  Gospel  in  heathen  lands.  It  is  the  best  metrical 
expression  of  the  desire  for  a  more  intimate  spiritual  ac- 


202  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

quaintance  with  God,  and  the  riches  of  his  grace,  that 
we  have  in  modern  psahnody.  It  is  a  fresh  and  touch- 
ing expression  of  the  same  yearning  aspirations  toward 
God  that  we  prize  in  Cowper's  "  Oh,  for  a  closer  walk 
with  God,"  which  it  succeeds  in  popular  favor.  It  ex- 
presses a  willingness  to  know  God  through  the  disci- 
pline of  affliction  ;  to  descend  into  the  valleys  in  the 
ascent  of  that  spiritual  mountain  whose  summit  is  ever- 
lasting light. 

Its  imagery  embraces  the  associations  of  one  of 
the  most  sublime  and  interesting  religious  experiences 
recorded  in  the  early  Hebrew  Scriptures — Jacob's  vision 
at  Luz.  "And  he  lighted  upon  a  certain  place,"  says 
the  Scripture  of  Jacob's  wanderings,  "  and  tarried  there 
all  night,  because  the  sun  was  set ;  and  he  took  of  the 
stones  of  that  place,  and  put  them  for  his  pillows,  and 
lay  down  in  that  place  to  sleep.  And  he  dreamed,  and 
behold  a  ladder  set  up  on  the  earth,  and  the  top  of  it 
reached  to  heaven  ;  and  behold  the  angels  of  God  as- 
cending and  descending  on  it."  The  hymn  almost  liter- 
ally reproduces  this  delightful  passage  : 

"  Though  hke  the  wanderer. 
The  sun  gone  down, 
Darkness  be  over  me, 

My  rest  a  stone, 
Yet  in  my  dreams  I  'd  be 
^  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee." 

The  scriptural  account  of  the  waking  of  Jacob  on  the 
morning  after  the  vision  is  as  vividly  brought  to  mind  in 
the  figures  used  in  the  fourth  stanza  of  the  hymn  : 


RECENl^  HYMN-  WRITERS.  203 

"  Then  with  my  waking  thoughts 

Bright  with  thy  praise, 
Out  of  my  stony  grief 

Bethel  I  '11  raise ; 
So  by  my  woes  to  be 
Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee." 


Mrs.  Sarah  Flower  Adams,  the  author  of  the  hymn, 
was  the  younger  of  two  daughters  of  Benjamin  Flower, 
an  English  wiriter  and  editor.  She  was  born  in  1805. 
Her  mother,  a  lady  of  culture,  refined  feelings  and  senti- 
ments, died  early  in  life. 

Her  elder  sister's  name  was  Eliza.  The  strongest 
attachment  existed  between  the  two  sisters  ;  both  pos- 
sessed the  fine  feelings  of  their  mother,  and  were  fond 
of  books,  music,  poetry,  and  art.  Their  aesthetic  tastes 
discovered  themselves  in  childhood,  and  girlhood  to 
them  was  a  glowing  season  of  aspiration  and  expectancy. 
Eliza  turned  her  attention  to  music  and  musical  com- 
position, and  her  sister  to  religious  poetry.  They  were 
Unitarian  in  their  church  relations,  but  their  piety  was 
gauged  by  devotional  feeling  and  high  religious  attain- 
ments, rather  than  by  denominational  requirements  or 
any  sectarian  views. 

"  Eliza  Flower,"  says  a  critic,  "  attained  a  higher  rank 
in  musical  composition,  than  before  her  time  had  been 
reached  by  any  of  her  sex.  Sarah  Flower  made  the 
composition  of  poetry  her  occupation,  while  her  sister 
pursued  her  musical  studies.  In  1834,  she  married  Will- 
iam Bridges  Adams,  an  eminent  engineer,  and  a  contribu- 


204  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

tor  to  the  best  periodical  literature  In  1841,  she  pub- 
lished a  dramatic  poem  in  five  acts,  entitled,  "  Vivia  Per- 
petua,"  in  which  she  portrays  the  religious  life,  sufferings 
strong  faith,  and  endurance,  of  the  early  martyrs. 

The  hymn  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to  thee,"  was  a  record  of 
her  own  religious  experience,  and  was  written  as  a  me- 
morial of  answered  prayer,  probably  without  any  expec- 
tation that  it  would  be  of  public  service.  It  was  fur- 
nished with  thirteen  other  hymns  to  Charles  Fox's  col- 
lection of  "  Hymns  and  Anthems,"  published  in  Lon- 
don, in   1 84 1. 

The  cares  of  married  life  in  nowise  abated  her  early 
attachment  to  her  equally  gifted  sister.  Regarding 
"Vivia  Perpetua"  as  the  fruit  of  their  joint  aspirations  and 
studies,  she  dedicates  it  to  her  sister  in  some  lines  in 
which  occurs  the  following  tender  sentiment : 

"  In  thy  content,  I  win  a  wreath  more  bright 

Than  earth's  wide  garden  ever  could  supply; 
Ah,  me  !  I  think  me  still  how  poor  a  strain  ! 
And  fly  for  refuge  to  thy  love  again," 

Her  sister's  health  beginning  to  decline  and  evidences 
of  pulmonary  consumption  appearing,  she  devoted  her- 
self to  the  invalid's  room  with  unceasing  watchfulness  and 
self -forgetful  care.  Eliza  Flower  died  in  1847.  Mrs. 
Adams  never  recovered  from  the  shock  of  the  separation. 
Her  religious  aspirations,  always  strong,  seemed  now  to 
receive  a  heavenly  impulse.  Her  health  gradually  de- 
clined, and,  in  1849,  two  years  after  her  sister's  death, 
she  too  peacefully  fell  asleep. 


RE  CEXT  H  YMN-  WRITERS.  205 

In  her  hymn,  she  gives  expression  to  the  following  jubi- 
lant expectation  : 

"  Or  if  on  joyful  wing, 
Cleaving  the  sky, 
Sun,  moon,  and  stars  forgot, 

Upward  I  fly. 
Still  all  my  song  shall  be, 
Nearer  my  God  to  thee, 
Nearer  to  thee." 

This  hope  seems  to  have  been  almost  literally  fulfilled 
in  her  death.  We  are  told  that  "  almost  her  last  breath 
burst  into  unconscious  song." 

The  following  hymn  by  Mrs.  Adams   seems  to  have 

been  written  in  the  same  spirit  as  "  Nearer,  my  God,  to 

Thee."     It  was  sung  at  her  funeral  : 

"  He  sendeth  sun,  he  sendeth  shower, 
Alike  they  're  needful  to  the  flower ; 
And  joys  and  tears  alike  are  sent 
To  give  the  soul  fit  nourishment ; 
As  comes  to  me  or  cloud  or  sun, 
Father,  thy  will,  not  mine,  be  done. 

"  Oh,  ne'er  will  I  at  life  repine, 
Enough  that  thou  hast  made  it  mine ; 
Wliere  falls  the  shadow  cold  in  death, 
I  yet  will  sing  with  fearless  breath ; 
As  comes  to  me  or  shade  or  sun, 
Fathei',  thy  v/ill,  not  mine  be  done." 

The  last  stanza  seems  prophetic  when  we  recall  the 
song  of  praise  that  trembled  on  her  dying  lips. 


PHCEBE  CARY. 
The  grave  has  but  recently  closed'  over  Phoebe  Gary, 
the  author  of  the  following  hymn,  and  one  of  the  sweetest 

18 


2o6  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HVMiYS. 

American  poets.  She  possessed  a  loving  and  trustful 
soul,  and  her  life  was  an  honor  to  true  womanhood  and 
a  blessing  to  the  poor.  She  had  to  struggle  with  hard- 
ship and  poverty  in  her  early  years  ;  "  I  have  cried  in  the 
street  because  I  was  poor,"  she  said  in  her  prosperous 
years,  "  and  the  poor  always  seem  nearer  to  me  than  the 
rich." 

She  was  a  member  of  the  Church  of  the  Pilgrims 
in  New  York,  during  the  pastorate  of  Dr.  Cheever.  In 
her  last  years  she  attended  the  Church  of  the  Stranger 
(Dr.  Deems')  in  the  same  city.  Her  early  years  were 
passed  in  a  simple  rural  home  in  the  West,  but  after 
obtaining  reputation  as  a  writer  she  removed  to  New 
York  where  she  was  greatly  loved  for  her  modest  worth, 
and  where  she  became  a  quiet  but  influential  leader  in 
literary  society. 

The  hymn  by  which  she  is  best  known,  and  which 
will  probably  survive  her  other  published  works,  is  en- 
titled "  Nearer  Home." 

One  sweetly  solemn  thought 

Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er, 
I  am  nearer  home  to-day. 

Then  I  ever  have  been  before. 

Nearer  my  Father's  house, 

Where  the  many  mansions  be, 
Nearer  the  great  white  throne, 

Nearer  the  crystal  sea. 

Nearer  tlie  bound  of  life, 
Where  we  lay  our  burdens  do'vvn, 

Nearer  leaving  the  cross 
Nearer  gaining  the  crown. 


RE  CENT  H\  'MN-  WRITERS.  207 

But  lying  darkly  between, 

Winding  down  through  shades  of  night, 

Is  the  silent  unknown  stream, 
That  leads  at  last  to  the  light. 

Closer  and  closer  my  steps 

Come  to  the  dread  abysm, 
Closer  death  to  my  lips 

Presses  the  aw'ful  chrism. 

Oh,  if  my  mortal  feet, 

Have  almost  gained  the  brink, 
If  it  be  that  I  'm  nearer  home, 

Even  to-day  than  I  think, 

Father,  perfect  my  trust, 

Let  my  spirit  feel  in  death 
That  her  feet  are  firmly  set 

On  the  rock  of  living  faith. 

The  author  did  not  set  a  high  intellectual  value  upon 
this  composition  at  the  time  it  was  written,  and  she  was 
surprised  to.  find  it  outgrowing  in  popularity  all  of  her 
more  carefully  penned  and  elaborate  productions. 

It  was  a  hymn  of  heart-experience.  She  thus  gives 
an  account  of  its  origin  in  a  letter  to  an  esteemed  friend  : 

"  I  enclose  the  hymn  for  you.  It  was  written  eigh- 
teen years  ago  (1852)  in  your  own  house.  I  composed 
it  in  the  the  little  back  third  story  bedroom,  one  Sunday 
morning,  after  coming  from  church  ;  and  it  makes  me 
very  happy  to  think  that  any  word  I  could  say  has  done 
any  good  in  the  world." 

In  its  original  form  the  hymn  was  very  irregular  and 
not  adapted  to  be  sung.  Metrical  versions  have  therefore 
been  arranged  by  compilers,  none  of  them  quite  satisfac- 
tory.    The  following  is  one  of  the  best : 


2o8  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

One  sweetly  solemn  thought 

Comes  to  me  o'er  and  o'er : 
Nearer  my  going  home  am  I 

Than  e'er  I  've  been  before; 

Nearer  my  Father's  house 

Where  many  mansions  be, 
Nearer  the  throne  where  Jesus  reigns, 

Nearer  the  crystal  sea. 

Nearer  the  bound  of  life, 

Where  we  lay  our  burdens  down, 

Leaving  the  cross  of  heavy  grief 
Wearing  the  starry  crown. 

Nearer  the  hidden  stream 

Winding  through  shades  of  night, 

Rolling  its  cold,  dark  waves  between 
Me  and  the  world  of  light. 

Jesus,  to  thee  I  cling;    ^ 

Strengthen  my  arm  of  faith, 
Stand  near  me  when  my  wayworn  feet 

Pass  through  the  stream  of  death. 

Miss  Cary  died  at  Newport,  R.  I.,  Monday,  July  31, 
1 87 1.  Her  remains  were  interred  from  New  York,  in 
Greenwood  Cemetery,  and  this  hymn  was  sung  at  her 
funeral. 

The  following  pleasing  incident  has  been  told  of  the 
influence  of  Miss  Gary's  hymn  in  a  foreign  land : 

Two  Americans,  one  a  young  man,  the  other  over 
forty,  were  drinking  and  playing  at  cards  in  a  gambling 
house  in  Ghina.  While  the  older  one  was  shuffling  the 
cards,  the  younger  began  to  hum,  and  finally  sung  in  a 
low  tone,  but  quite  unconsciously,  this  hymn.  The  older 
one  threw  down  the  cards  on  the  floor  and  said, 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  209 

"  Harry,  where  did  you  learn  that  hymn  ?" 

"  What  hymn  ?" 

"  Why  that  one  you  have  been  singing." 

The  young  man  said  he  did  not  know  what  he  had 
been  singing.  But  when  the  older  one  repeated  some  of 
the  lines,  he  said  they  were  learned  in  the  Sunday-school. 

"  Come,  Harry,"  said  the  older  one,  "  come,  here  's 
what  I  've  won  from  you.  As  for  me,  as  God  sees  me,  I 
have  played  my  last  game,  and  drank  my  last  bottle.  I 
have  misled  you,  Harry,  and  I  am  sorry  for  it.  Give  me 
your  hand,  my  boy,  and  say  that,  for  old  America's  sake, 
if  for  no  other,  you  will  quit  this  infernal  business." 

Col.  Russel  H.  Conwell,  of  Boston,  who  was  then  vis- 
iting China,  and  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  scene,  says 
that  the  reformation  was  a  permanent  one. 


RA  Y  PALMER. 

My  faith  looks  up  to  thee. 
Thou  Lamb  of  Calvary: 

Saviour  divine, 
Now  hear  me  while  I  pray ; 
Take  all  my  guilt  away; 
Oh  let  me  from  this  day 

Be  wholly  thine. 

May  thy  rich  grace  impart 
Strength  to  my  fainting  heart : 

My  zeal  inspire  ; 
As  thou  hast  died  for  me, 
O  may  my  love  to  thee 
Pure  warm  and  changeless  be — 

A  living  fire. 

18^ 


2IG  l^HE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

While  life's  dark  maze  I  tread, 
And  griefs  around  me  spread, 

Be  thou  my  Guide  ; 
Bid  darkness  turn  to  day  ; 
Wipe  sorrow's  tears  away, 
Nor  let  me  ever  stray 

P'rom  thee  aside. 

When  ends  life's  transient  dream ; 
When  death's  cold,  sullen  stream 

Shall  o'er  me  roll ; 
Blest  Saviour,  then,  in  love 
Fear  and  distrust  remove  ; 
Oh  bear  me  safe  above, 

A  ransomed  soul. 

This  hymn  was  written  by  Dr.  Ray  Palmer,  about  the 
year  1830.  He  was  a  student  at  the  time,  preparing  for 
the  ministry.  His  health  was  very  poor,  and  his  world- 
ly prospects  clouded.  He  felt  that  the  world  could  prom- 
ise him  nothing,  and  in  an  hour  of  despondency,  rhe 
young  student  turned,  as  his  only  help  and  resource,  to 
the  promises  of  God.  Comforted  in  spirit  by  Him  "  to 
whom  all  things  are  possible,"  he  tells  his  experience 
and  expresses  his  hope  for  the  future  in  these  lines. 

The  hymn  at  first  seems  not  to  have  been  intended 
for  publication.  It  was  carried  about  in  the  writer's 
pocket  for  a  considerable  time.  Meeting  Dr.  Lowell 
Mason,  one  day,  he  was  asked  to  furnish  a  hymn  for  a 
tune  then  written  or  about  to  be  composed.  Dr.  Palmer, 
then  about  twenty-two  years  of  age,  drew  forth  the  poem 
he  had  written  under  these  severe  trials  and  interesting 
circumstances,  and  it  was  soon  after  published  with  the 
music  by  Dr.  Mason. 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  211 

HENRY  FRANCIS  LYTE, 

THE   AUTHOR   OF    "ABIDE    WITH    ME." 

In  the  year  18 18,  an  Episcopal  minister  at  Marazion, 
England,  distinguished  for  his  brilhant  gifts,  culture,  and 
poetic  tastes,  was  sent  for  by  a  neighboring  clergyman, 
who  felt  that  he  was  dying.  The  interview  was  a  most 
solemn  and  impressive  one. 

"  I  am  about  to  die,"  said  the  invalid,  "  and  I  am  un- 
pardoned and  quite  unprepared." 

The  two  clergymen  took  their  Bibles,  and  read  to- 
gether the  writings  of  St.  Paul,  in  search  of  the  way  of 
spiritual  peace.  Prayer  brought  to  each  the  desired 
blessing,  the  precious  love  of  Christ.  The  latter  died 
in  triumph,  and  the  former  entered  upon  his  mission  in 
life  with  new  views,  new  consolations,  and  a  new  zeal, 
consecrating  all  his  powers,  his  social  and  poetic  gifts  to 
religion. 

This  clergyman  was  Henry  Francis  Lyte.  He  was 
educated  at  Trinity  College,  Dublin,  where  his  first  poe- 
tic gifts  appeared,  and  where  he  won  a  reputation  as  a 
scholar,  competing  successfully  on  three  occasions  for 
the  prize  offered  for  the  best  English  poem. 

After  his  conversion,  the  high  aspirations  of  lite- 
rary eminence  that  had  formed  a  part  of  the  dreams  of 
his  youth,  changed.  Gentle  and  childlike  in  spirit,  he 
desired  to  serve  God  by  laboring  for  the  poor. 

In  the  year  1823,  he  entered  upon  the  perpetual  cu- 
racy of  Dower  Brixham,  Devon,  which  he  held  till  his 
death,  laboring  among  a  poor,  rough,  seafaring  popula- 


212  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

tion.  ,  These  experiences  and   changes    in   life  are   ex- 
pressed in  his  much-loved  hymn  : 

"  Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken, 
All  to  leave  and  follow  thee." 

Here,  removed  from  the  cultivated  circles  of  England, 
with  the  expressionless  coast  and  the  great  sea  perpet- 
tually  foaming  before  him,  he  labored  with  a  brotherly 
tenderness  and  a  self-consuming  zeal  for  the  sailors. 
Like  most  men  of  genius  he  loved  children  ;  he  gathered 
a  Sabbath-school  of  several  hundred  scholars,  and  he 
took  especial  pains  in  instructing  and  training  a  band  of 
some  seventy  or  eighty  teachers  for  Sunday-school  work- 
Here  he  composed  the  sympathetic  lyrics  which  are 
found  in  nearly  all  collections  of  church  psalmody. 
Nearly  all  of  these  hymns,  which  are  among  the  most 
perfect  in  the  language,  and  which  have  spread  over  the 
Christian  world,  were  written  for  his  own  church,  a  body 
composed  in  the  main  of  seafaring  people  on  a  rude 
English  coast. 

His  health  was  delicate,  and  the  sword  proved  too 
sharp  for  the  scabbard.  In  1846,  he  found  his  strength 
failing  and  resolved  to  seek  a  reaction  in  travel.  He 
had  learned  to  love  the  poor,  and  his  heart  was  wholly 
engrossed  in  his  work  among  the  sailors.  He  was  pre- 
pared for  death,  but  he  yet  wished  to  live.  He  felt,  like 
Keats,  that  he  had,  as  yet,  accomplished  nothing,  that 
the  influence  that  he  had  thus  far  been  able  to  exert 
would  quickly  vanish  from  among  mankind,  and  that  his 
name  would  be  "  writ  in  water." 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  213 

In  a  poem  entitled,  "  Declining  Days,"'  he  thus  dis- 
closes the  secret  of  his  pure,  sympathetic  heart : 

"  Alight  verse  of  mine  inspire 

One  virtuous  aim,  one  higli  resolve  impart ; 
Light  in  one  drooping  soul  a  hallowed  fire, 
Or  bind  one  broken  heart, 

"  Death  would  be  sweeter  then, 

More  calm  my  slumber  'neath  the  silent  sod ; 
Might  I  thus  live  to  bless  my  fellow-men, 
Or  glorify  my  God." 

In   the  same  poem  he  makes  the  following  prayer, 

which  was  most  remarkably  answered  : 

"  Oh  thou,  whose  touch  can  lend 

Life  to  the  dead,  thy  quickening  grace  supply; 
And  grant  me,  swan-like,  my  last  breath  to  spend 
In  song  that  may  not  die." 

It  was  the  autumn  of  1847  5  the  gloom  of  winter  was 
already  settling  upon  the  coast,  and  the  pomps  of  decay 
tinging  the  leaves.  The  pastor,  who  was  now  preparing 
to  leave  the  parish,  and  who  seemed  like  one  already 
hovering  over  the  verge  of  the  grave,  determined  to 
speak  to  his  dear  people  once  more,  perhaps  for  the  last 
time.  He  dragged  his  attenuated  form  into  the  pulpit, 
and  delivered  his  parting  discourse,  while  the  great  tears 
rolled  down  the  hardy  faces  of  the  worshippers.  He 
then  administered  the  Lord's  Supper  to  his  spiritual  chil- 
dren. Tired  and  exhausted,  but  with  his  heart  still  swell- 
ing with  emotion,  he  went  home.  The  old  poetic  inspira- 
tion came  over  him,  and  he  wrote  the  words  and  music  of 
his  last  song.  He  had  prayed  that  .his  last  breath  might 
be  spent  "  swan-like," 


2  14  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

■'In  songs  that  may  not  die." 

and  this  effort  was  to  prove  a  literal  answer  to  his  prayer- 
The  poem  composed  under  these  interesting  circum- 
stances was  the  following  well-known  hymn-chant : 

Abide  with  me :  fast  falls  the  eventide. 
The  darkness  deepens  ;  Lord,  with  me  abide  : 
When  other  helpers  fail,  and  comforts  flee, 
Help  of  the  helpless,  O  abide  with  me. 

Swift  to  its  close  ebbs  out  life's  little  day ; 
Earth's  joys  grow  dim,  its  glories  pass  away. 
Change  and  decay  in  all  around  I  see  ; 

0  Thou  who  changest  not,  abide  with  me. 

1  need  thy  presence  every  passing  hour  ; 

What  but  thy  grace  can  foil  the  tempter's  power  ? 
Who,  like  thyself,  my  guide  and  stay  can  be  ? 
Through  cloud  and  sunshine,  Lord,  abide  with  me. 

I  fear  no  foe,  with  thee  at  hand  to  bless  : 
Ills  have  no  weight,  and  tears  no  bitterness. 
Where  is  death's  sting?  where,  grave,  thy  victory? 
I  triumph  still,  if  Thou  abide  with  me. 

Hold  Thou  thy  cross  before  my  closing  eyes ; 
Shine  through  the  gloom,  and  point  me  to  the  skies  ; 
Heaven's  morning  breaks,  and  earth's  vain  shadows  flee  ! 
In  life,  in  death,  O  Lord,  abide  with  me. 

He  went  to  Nice.  There  at  the  foot  of  the  Maritime 
Alps,  in  the  climate  of  perpetual  summer,  with  the  moun- 
tain torrents  singing  around  him,  and  the  splendid  Med- 
iterranean before  him,  he  passed  the  last  days  of  his  life. 
His  death  was  that  of  a  happy  Christian  poet.  Like 
George  Herbert  and  Charles  Wesley,  he  sang  while  his 
strength  lasted,  and  then  quietly  waited,  till "  rising  from  the 
sleep  of  death,  he  should  join  the  hallelujahs  of  heaven.'' 


RECENT  HYMN-  WRITERS.  2 1 5 

JOHNH.  NEWMAN. 

In  the  year  1833,  an  English  Episcopal  clergyman 
Rev.  John  Henry  Newman,  was  sailing  over  the  Mediter- 
ranean, when  suffering  from  the  effects  of  a  recent  and 
an  alarming  illness.  His  religious  feelings  were  agitated 
by  the  dissensions  in  the"  church  at  home,  and  an  inward 
spiritual  conflict  was  working  a  change  in  his  views,  un- 
til, wth  perils  at  sea,  sickness,  doubt,  and  perplexity,  he 
was  made  to  feel  that  faith  has  but  one  reliance.  In  this 
state  of  mind,  with  a  sky  of  Italian  splendors  and  dangers 
above  him,  and  the  sea  rocking  the  ship  beneath,  he 
composed  one  of  the  sweetest  and  most  trustful  of  mod- 
ern hymns  : 

Lead,  Kindly  Light,  amid  the  encirding  gloom, 

Lead  Thou  me  on  ; 
The  night  is  dark,  and  I  am  far  from  home, 

Lead  Thou  me  on. 
Keep  Thou  my  feet ;  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene  ;  one  step  enough  for  me. 

I  was  not  ever  thus,  nor  prayed  that  Thou 

Shouldst  lead  me  on ; 
I  loved  to  choose  and  see  my  path ;  but  now 

Lead  Thou  me  on. 
I  loved  the  garish  day,  and,  spite  of  fears, 
Pride  ruled  my  will :  remember  not  past  years. 

So  long  thy  power  hath  blest  me,  sure  it  still 

Will  lead  me  on 
O'er  moor  and  fen,  o'er  crag  and  torrent,  till 

The  night  is  gone, 
And  wi'h  the  morn  those  angel  faces  smile 
Which  1  have  loved  long  since,  and  lost  awhile. 


VIIL  AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS. 


1.  DR.  ISAAC  IVATTS:  PERSONAL  HYMNS  AND  HYMNS 

ON  SPECIAL  OCCASIONS. 

2.  CHARLES  WESLEY:  HYMNS  FOR  SPECIAL  OCCASIONS. 

3.  JAMES   MONTGOMERY-   HYMNS    OF  PERSONAL    EX- 

PERIENCE. 

4.  THOMAS  OLIVERS:  "  THE  GOD  OF  ABRAM  PRAISE." 

5.  MADAM  GUYON'S  HYMNS. 


Sloiy  ..:  Kvnns.  J9 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS. 


DR.  ISAAC  WATTS: 

PERSONAL  HYMNS  AND  HYMNS  ON  SPECIAL  OCCASIONS. 

The  bicentennial  of  Dr.  Watts  has  just  been  observed 
in  England,  and,  among  all  the  contributors  to  modern 
psalmody,  no  one  has  left  a  clearer  and  purer  tone  in  the 
church.  The  calm,  unsullied  light  of  his  fame  is  not 
dimmed ;  his  name  holds  a  steady  place  as  a  benefactor, 
and  his  best  thoughts,  like  ministering  angels,  still  trav- 
erse every  portion  of  the  Christian  world  on  the  multitu- 
dinous wings  of  song.  His  tomb  in  the  unconsecra- 
ted  dust  in  Bunhill  Fields  still  invites  the  grateful  steps 
of  the  traveller,  and  his  effigy  in  Westminster  Abbey 
commands  a  larger  respect  than  the  busts  of  kings. 
Few  men's  thoughts  have  so  lived  in  the  thoughts  ot 
others  as  have  those  of  Dr.  Watts. 

The  father  of  Dr.  Watts  was  a  deacon  of  the  Inde- 
pendent church  at  Southampton.  At  the  age  of  eighteen 
Isaac  complained  of  the  want  of  taste  in  the  hymns  then 
generally  used,  and  was  requested  to  produce  something 
better.  He  accordingly  wrote  an  original  hymn  for  the 
close  of  a  Sabbath  service  in  Southampton.  It  was 
given  out  in  the  usual  manner,  by  the  clerk,  and  greatly 
pleased  the  worshippers.  It  was  the  hymn,  beginning, 
"  Behol  1  the  dories  of  the  Lamb." 


220  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

He  was  invited  to  write  otlier  hymns  for  use  in  the 
same  church,  and  soon  produced  a  sufficient  number  to 
make  a  book.  The  book  met  a  demand  of  the  times, 
and  was  immediately  popular. 

Among  his  early  hymns  was  one  composed  under 
very  interesting  circumstances.  Dr.  Watts  was  enamor- 
ed of  Miss  Elizabeth  Singer,  afterwards  the  celebrated 
Mrs.  Rowe,  who  was  greatly  admired  for  her  personal 
beauty,  intellectual  graces,  and  moral  excellences.  Some 
of  the  most  accomplished  men  of  the  time  were  among 
her  friends,  and  several  offered  her  their  hands. 

Dr.  Watts  proposed  marriage  to  Miss  Singer,  and 
was  rejected.  He  was  small  in  stature  and  lacking  in 
personal  beauty.  Miss  Singer,  in  alluding  to  his  intel- 
lectual worth,  said  that  she  "loved  the  jewel,  but  could 
not  admire  the  casket  that  contained  it.'  His  disap- 
pointment was  very  great,  and  in  the  first  shadow  of  it 
he  thus  exhibits  the  feelings  of  his  heart: 

How  vain  are  all  things  here  below, 

How  false,  and  yet  how  fair ! 
Each  pleasure  hath  its  poison  too, 

And  every  sweet  a  snare. 

The  brightest  things  below  the  sky 

Give  but  a  flattering  light; 
We  should  suspect  some  danger  nigh 

Where  we  Dossess  delight. 

Our  dearest  joys  and  nearest  friends, 

The  partners  of  our  blood, 
How  they  divide  our  wavering  minds, 

And  leave  but  half  for  God. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  zz\ 

The  fondness  of  a  creature's  love, 
.  How  strong  it  strikes  the  sense; 
Thither  the  warm  affections  move, 
Nor  can  we  call  them  thence. 

My  Saviour,  let  thy  beauties  be 

My  soul's  eternal  food  ; 
And  grace  command  my  heart  away 

From  all  created  good. 

The  hymn,  beginning, 

"There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight," 
associates  itself  with  the  natural  scenery  of  Southamp- 
ton, his  native  town.  It  was  written  while  he  was  sitting 
at  the  window  of  a  parlor,  overlooking  the  river  Itchen, 
and  in  full  view  of  the  Isle  of  Wight.  The  landscape 
there  is  very  beautiful,  and  forms  a  model  for  a  poet  to 
employ  in  describing  allegorically  the  passage  of  the  soul 
from  earth  to  the  paradise  above. 

Watts  lived  a  tranquil,  uneventful  lire,  passing  thirty- 
four  years  in  tlie  seclusion  of  Alney  Park,  a  nobleman's 
seat,  where  he  had  been  invited  to  make  a  home.  His 
health  was  always  delicate.  He  both  preached  and  wrote, 
but  his  best  efforts  were  given  to  his  pen. 

A  critical  writer  in  the  "  Oxford  Essays"'  fixes  upon 
the  hymn  beginning, 

"  When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross,' 
as  Dr.  Watts'  best  original  effort;  and  pronounces  the 
rendering  of  the  ninetieth  Psalm,  beginning, 

"  Our  God,  our  help  in  ages  past," 
as  his  finest  paraphrase.     The  latter  indeed  not  only  pre- 
serves the  sublime  and  lofty  spirit,  but  the  grand  and 

19* 


222  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

shadowy  imagery  of  the  Hebrew  lawgiver's  poetical  con- 
templation : 

"  A  thousand  ages  in  thy  sight, 
Are  like  an  evening  gone  ; 
Short  as  the  watch  that  ends  the  night, 
Before  the  rising  sun. 

"  Time,  like  an  ever-rolling  stream, 
Bears  all  its  sons  away ; 
They  fly,  forgotten,  as  a  dream 
Dies  at  the  opening  day. 

"  The  busy  tribes  of  flesh  and  blood, 
With  albtht'ir  cares  and  fears, 
Are  carried  downward  by  the  flood, 
And  lost  in  following  years." 

Probably  none  of  Dr.  Watts'  hymns  has  been  so 
widely  used,  and  has  held  so  steadily  its  character  as  the 
interpreter  of  a  common  religious  experience,  as  that  be- 
ginning, 

"  When  I  can  read  my  title  clear, 
To  mansions  in  the  skies." 

The  last  stanza  of  this  hymn,  beginning, 

"  There  I  shall  bathe  my  weary  soul 
In  seas  of  heavenly  rest," 

is  supposed  to  have  borrowed  its  pleasing  imagery  from 
the  scenery  of  the  calm  harbor  of  Southampton,  in  view 
of  which  it  was  written.  Cowper  seems  to  have  taken 
his  picture  of  the  pious  peasant  woman's  contentment- 
and  hope,  in  the  famous  allusion  to  Voltaire  in  the  poem 
"  Hope,"  from  one  of  these  stanzas.  He  speaks  of  the 
humble  cottasrer  as  one  who 


§i\A(D     WATTS, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  223 

"  Just  knows  and  knows  no  more,  her  Bible  true, 
A  truth  the  brilliant  Frenchman  never  knew,    • 
And  in  that  charter  reads  with  sparkling  eyes 
Her  title  to  a  treasure  in  the  skies." 

The  hymn,  beginning, 

"Jesus  shall  reign  where'er  the  sun," 

which  is  in  part  a  paraphrase  of  Psalm  72,  is  probably 
Watts'  best  ascription  of  praise,  and  his  nearest  approach 
to  Bishop  Ken's  universal  doxology.  After  five  genera- 
tions of  service,  it  now  seems  to  have  entered  an  almost 
new  field  as  a  foreign  missionary  hymn. 

Many  of  Watts'  hymns  were  composed  to  be  sung 
after  special  sermons,  and  were  intended  to  combine  the 
best  thoughts  of  the  subject  on  which  the  preacher  had 
dwelt.     Thus  the  hymn,  beginning, 

"  What  shall  a  dying  sinner  do  ?" 

was  first  sung  after  one  of  Dr.  Watts'  sermons  from  the 
text,  Rom.  i  :i6,  and  was  originally  entitled,  "The  Gos- 
pel— the  Power  of  God  to  Salvation."  The  hymn  be- 
ginning, 

"  And  is  this  life  prolonged  to  me  ?" 

was  written  to  follow  a  sermon  on  "  The  Right  Improve- 
ment of  Life,"  I  Cor.  3:22.     The  hymn  beginning, 
"  How  vast  a  treasure  we  possess," 

was  written  for  a  sermon  on  "  The  Christian  Treasure," 
from  the  text,  "  All  things  are  yours." 

Many  pleasing  anecdotes  are  associated  with  certain 
of  Watts'  hymns,  as  with  certain  of  John  and  Charles 
Weslev's.     The  hvmn,   "Not   all   the   blood  of   beasts." 


224  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

was  found  by  an  intelligent  Jewess  on  a  wrapper  of  some 
parcel  she  had  received  from  a  store,  and  made  such  an 
impression  upon  her  mind  ihat  she  was  led  to  a  perusal 
of  the  Bible,  and  to  become  a  Christian.  On  announ- 
cing the  change  in  her  views,  she  was  abandoned  by  her 
husband,  and  thereafter  lived  a  life  of  great  destitution, 
but  consoled  by  a  satisfying  and  comforting  faith.  Dr. 
Belcher  gives  an  anecdote  of  a  young  man  who  found 
his  heart  hardened  by  a  severe  sermon  on  the  punish- 
ments of  sin,  but  who  was  asked  to  read  the  hymn,  be- 
ginning, 

"  Show  pity,  Lord ;  O  Lord,  forgive." 

The  hymn  produced  a  total  change  in  his  feelings,  and 
he  left  the  room  in  tears,  and  soon  after  was  made  the 
partaker  of  a  rich  religious  experience.  Watt's  hymn  be- 
ginning, 

"  I  '11  praise  my  Maker  while  I  've  breath," 

was  sung  by  John  Wesley  when  dying. 

Perhaps  no  hymn  conveys  a  richer  and  riper  religious 
experience,  that  accords  with  the  best  Christian  senti- 
ment, than  that  beginning, 

"  My  God,  the  spring  of  all  my  joys." 
No  stanza  certainly  was   ever  so  often  repeated  in 
life's  extremity,  as  the  following : 

"  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 

Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are, 
While  on  his  breast  I  lean  my  head, 
And  breathe  my  life  out  sweetly  there." 

The  serene  close  of  Dr.  Watts'  life  was  in  harmony 
with  the  consolations  of  this  stanza.     "  I  thank  God,"  he 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  225 

used  to  say  in  old  age,  "  that  I  can  lie  down  with  comfort 
at  night,  not  being  solicitous  whether  I  awake  in  this 
world  or  another."  He  spoke  of  his  physical  sufferings 
as  enabling  him  to  "  bear  the  will  of  God  when  he  could 
no  longer  do  it."  He  requested  that  these  words  only, 
In  jino  Jesii  oimiia,  should  follow  the  name  and  dates  on 
his  tomb. 


CHARLES  WESLEY: 

HYMNS  FOR  SPECIAL  OCCASIONS. 

Charles  Wesley's  hymns  were  written  under  a 
great  variety  of  interesting  circumstances,  and  nearly 
all  furnish  a  record  of  personal  experience.  Thus  his 
mellifluous  hymn,  beginning, 

"  Oh,  for  a  thousand  tongues  to  sing," 

was  written  for  the  anniversary-day  of  one's  conversion, 
probably  just  a  year  after  his  own  conversion,  thus  being 
a  retrospection.  "  Head  of  the  church  triumjahant,"  was 
written  during  the  war  between  England  and  France  and 
Spain,  and  has  reference  to  the  Wesleyan  persecutions 
in  those  troubled  times.  The  hymn  beginning, 
'•  Glory  to  God,  whose  sovereign  grace," 

has  reference  to  the  wonderful  revival  among  the  Kings- 
wood  colliers,  as  do  the  hymns  beginning, 

"  Let  all  men  rejoice,  by  Jesus  restored," 

and 

"  Brethren  beloved,  your  calling  see." 

The  hymns,  beginning, 


226  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 


and 


"  God  of  my  life,  to  thee," 
"  Fountain  of  life,  and  all  my  joy," 


"  Away  with  our  fears,  the  glad  morning  appears," 

were  written  on  birthdays,  and  record  the  progress  of 
spiritual  attainment  and  experience. 

"  Come,  O  thou  all-victorious  Lord, 
Thy  power  to  us  make  known ; 
Strike  with  the  hammer  of  thy  word, 
And  break  these  hearts  of  stone," 

was  composed  in  June,  1746,  before  preaching  in  the  Isle 
of  Portland,  Dorsetshire,  where  the  people  were  mostly 
employed  in  stone  quarries. 

"  See  how  great  a  flame  inspires,"  was  written  at  tlie 
time  of  the  author's  wonderful  success  in  preaching 
among  the  Newcastle  colliers.  The  imagery  recalls  the 
large  fires  that  burned  in  Newcastle  by  night.  "  Blow 
ye  the  trumpet,  blow,"  first  appeared  in  a  tract  entitled, 
"  Hymns  for  the  New  Year,"  or  Hymns  for  New  Year's 
Day,  1755. 

The  hymn,  beginning, 

"  Forth  in  thy  name,  O  Lord,  I  go, 
My  daily  labors  to  pursue  ; 
Thee,  only  thee,  resolved  to  know, 
In  all  I  think,  or  speak,  or  do," 

has  reference  to  his  itinerant  preaching: 

That,  which  is  made  to  begin  in  many  hymn-books 
with  the  second  stanza, 

"  Lo  !  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land," 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  227 

is  said  to  have  been  written  at  Land's  End  in  Cornwall, 
with  the  British  Channel  and  the  broad  Atlantic  in  view, 
and  surging  around  the  "narrow  neck  of  land"  on  either 

hand: 

Lo  !  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land, 
'Twixt  two  unbounded  seas,  I  stand. 

Secure,  insensible : 
A  point  of  time,  a  moment's  space, 
Removes  me  to  that  heavenly  place, 

Or  shuts  me  up  in  hell. 

O  God,  mine  inmost  soul  convert, 
And  deeply  on  my  thoughtful  heart 

Eternal  things  impress  : 
Give  me  to  feel  their  solemn  weight, 
And  tremble  on  the  brink  of  fate, 

And  wake  to  righteousness. 


JAMES  MONTGOMERY'S  HYMNS  OF   RELIGIOUS 
EXPERIENCE. 

On  the  fourth  of  November,  1871,  it  was  just  one 
hundred  years  since  James  Montgomery  was  born  in  the 
lowly  home  of  a  humble  Moravian  minister  in  Irvine,  a 
seaport  town  in  Ayrshire,  Scotland.  The  lessons  of  hope 
and  faith  in  God  which  his  parents  early  endeavored  to 
inculcate,  made  a  deep  impression  upon  his  mind. 

At  the  age  of  six,  his  parents  placed  him  at  a  Moravi- 
an school  at  Fulneck,  near  Leeds,  in  Yorkshire,  England. 
Here  he  was  kindly  treated  ;  the  discipline  of  the  school, 
so  happily  blending  pleasant  recreation  with  study,  was 
well  calculated  to  inspire  a  love  for  study  in  the  childish 
mind  ;  while  over  all  was  thrown  the  sweet  and  holv  in- 


228  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

fluence  of  the  religion  of  Jesus,  whom  they  were  taught 
to  regard  as  a  Brother  and  Friend,  and  wliose  kind  pro- 
tection and  constant  care  they  daily  recognized  and  ac- 
knowledged. As  he  grew  up,  the  world  with  its  flattering 
voice  proffered  its  delusive  pleasures,  and  like  too  many 
others,  Montgomery  listened  to  its  seductive  call,  and 
left  the  peaceful  haven  at  Fulneck,  to  plunge  into  the 
toils  and  struggles  of  the  outside  world,  a  step  he  ever 
regretted.     In  "  after  years,"  he  thus  speaks  of  the  event : 

A  STAR  from  heaven  once  went  astray, 

A  planet  beautiful  and  bright ; 
Which  to  the  sun's  diviner  ray 

Owed  all  its  beauty  and  its  light; 
Yet  deemed,  when  self-sufficient  grown, 
Its  borrowed  glory  all  its  own. 

A  secret  impulse  urged  its  course ; 

As,  by  a  demon  power  possessed. 
With  rash,  unheeding,  headlong  force, 

It  wildly  wandered  seeking  rest ; 
Till,  far  beyond  the  solar  range. 
It  underwent  a  fearful  change. 

Dim,  as  it  went,  its  lustre  grew, 
Till  utter  darkness  wrapt  it  round, 

And  slow  and  slower  as  it  flew. 

Failure  of  warmth  and  strength  it  found ; 

Congealed  into  a  globe  of  ice, 

It  seemed  cast  out  of  Paradise. 

The  cares  of  the  world  proved  harassing,  and  its  pleas- 
ures wholly  unsatisfactory.  His  early  religious  instruc- 
tion prevented  him  from  mingling  with  the  dissipated  and 
the  gay,  and  thus  saved  him  from  a  course  of  sinful  in- 
dulgence.    Although  his  associations  were  morally  pure, 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  229 

still  as  he  had  once  known  the  love  of  God,  he  could  not 
help  contrasting  the  peace  he  then  enjoyed  with  the  feel- 
ings of  unrest  and  gloom  which  now  filled  his  mind. 

Writing  to  a  friend  at  this  time,  he  thus  describes 
the  state  of  his  feelings  :  "Such  has  been  my  education, 
such,  I  will  venture  to  say,  has  been  my  experience  in 
the  morning  of  life,  that  I  can  never,  never  entirely  re- 
ject it,  and  embrace  any  system  of  morality  not  grounded 
upon  that  revelation.  What  can  I  do  .?  I  am  tossed  to 
and  fro  on  a  sea  of  doubts  and  perplexities  ;  the  farther 
I  am  carried  from  that  shore  where  I  was  once  happily 
moored,  the  weaker  grow  my  hopes  of  ever  reaching 
another  where  I  may  anchor  in  safety  :  at  the  same  time, 
my  hopes  of  returning  to  the  harbor  I  have  left  are  di- 
minished in  proportion.  This  is  the  present  state  of  my 
mind  !"  For  a  long  time  Montgomery's  mind  was  a  prey 
to  despairing  thoughts  which  led  him  to  prayer,  and  at 
length  the  true  light  began  to  dawn  ;  a  faint,  feeble, 
flickering  ray  it  was  at  first,  but  gradually  grew  stronger 
and  brighter,  until  his  heart  was  filled  with  the  joy  and 
peace  of  a  bright  hope  in  Christ.  On  his  forty-third 
birthday  he  wrote  to  the  presiding  minister  at  Fulneck, 
asking  to  be  readmitted  into  the  Moravian  congregation 
there  ;  a  request  which  was  most  cordially  granted. 

His  feelings  upon    the  occasion  are  touchingly  de- 
scribed in  the  following  hymn  : 

People  of  the  living  God 

I  have  sought  the  world  around, 
Paths  of  sin  and  sorrow  trod, 

Peace  and  comfort  nowhere  found  : 

20 


230  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYiMNS. 

Now  to  you  my  spirit  turns — 

Turns  a  fugitive  unblest ; 
Brethren,  where  your  altar  burns, 

Oh,  receive  me  into  rest. 

Lonely  I  no  longer  roam. 

Like  the  cloud,  the  wind,  the  wave ; 
Where  you  dwell  shall  be  my  home, 

Where  you  die  shall  be  my  grave. 
Mine  the  God  whom  you  adore. 

Your  Redeemer  shall  be  mine; 
Earth  can  fill  my  heart  no  more, 

Every  idol  I  resign. 

From  this  time  until  the  close  of  his  life,  Montgomery 
was  actively  employed  in  trying  to  do  good,  finding  in 
the  service  of  God  that  peace  and  happiness  which  the 
world  failed  to  confer. 

His  hymns  but  reflect  his  own  luminous  experiences, 
and  the  experiences  of  the  church,  in  all  of  whose  joys, 
triumphs  and  sorrows  he  sympathized.  His  experience 
with  the  world  had  taught  him  that  the  soul  has  no  rest 
but  in  God,  and  religion  continually  showed  him  that  this 
rest  was  sweet  and  abiding  : 

Oh  where  shall  rest  be  found. 

Rest  for  the  weary  soul  ? 
'Twere  vain  the  ocean's  depths  to  sound 

Or  pierce  to  either  pole. 

The  world  can  never  give 

The  bliss  for  which  we  sigh 
'T  is  not  the  whole  of  life  to  live, 

Nor  all  of  death  to  die. 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  231 

Beyond  this  vale  of  tears 

There  is  a  life  above,  ' 
Unmeasured  by  the  flight  of  years ; 

And  all  that  life  is  love. 

There  is  a  death,  whose  pang 

Outlasts  the  fleeting  breath  : 
Oh  what  eternal  horrors  hang 

Around  the  second  death  ! 

Thou  God  of  truth  and  grace ! 

Teach  us  that  death  to  shun  ; 
Lest  we  be  banished  from  thy  face, 

For  evermore  undone. 

Solemn  and  grand  is  another  view  that  he  takes  of 
his  fading  years 

"  To  see 
All  nature  die,  and  find  myself  at  ease, 
In  youth  that  seemed  an  immortality; 
But  I  am  changed  now,  and  feel  with  trees 
A  brotherhood,  and  in  their  obsecfuies 
Think  of  my  own." 

In  this  mellow  autumn  time  of  life,  with  golden 
sheaves  bending  before  him,  he  was  called  upon  to  pro- 
duce a  strain  more  noble  than  that  which  celebrates  the 
deeds  of  warriors  or  the  triumphs  of  conquerors. 

•  At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Church  Missionary  So- 
ciety, in  the  spring  of  1848,  it  was  voted  to  hold  a  jubilee 
during  the  following  autumn,  in  all  of  its  departments 
throughout  the  world.  Montgomery  was  invited  to  com- 
pose a  jubilee  hymn,  which  should  be  translated  into 
other  tongues,  and  sung  in  all  lands  on  the  festival  day 
and  which  should  follow  the  circuit  of  the  sun,  and  ^ur- 


233  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMXS. 

round  the  earth  with  its  melody.  In  a  moment  of  poetic 
inspiration  he  seized  his  pen,  and  touched  upon  the  majes- 
tic strain  beginning,  "  The  King  of  Glory  we  proclaim  I" 

The  pleasant  autumn  came,  a.nd  the  venerable  poet 
was  permitted  to  join  in  singing  the  jubilant  melody. 

What  an  hour  of  triumph  was  that  when  the  silver- 
haired  man  caught  up  the  anthem  that  was  encircling 
the  lands  *  when,  after  long  watching  and  praying  for 
the  spread  of  the  gospel  of  peace,  he  joined  in  a  refrain 
of  devout  thanksgiving  that  came  floating  from  the  Ce- 
lestial empire,  from  India,  Smyrna,  Syria,  and  the  Nile, 
and  that  was  borne  onward  to  the  tropic  islands  and  the 
lands  of  the  setting  sun.  That  jubilant  morning  the 
missionaries  of  China  sung,  "  The  King  of  Glory  we 
proclaim  !"  The  converts  of  India,  "  The  King  of  Glory 
we  proclaim !"  The  dwellers  by  the  shadows  of  the  pyra- 
mids, "  The  King  of  Glory  we  proclaim  !"  Syria,  made 
holy  by  the  footsteps  of  the  Redeemer,  "The  King  of 
Glory  we  proclaim  !"  Christian  Europe,  like  the  voice 
of  many  waters,  "  The  King  of  Glory  we  proclaim  !"  The 
tropic  islands,  in  mellifluous  notes  and  melting  cadences, 
"  The  King  of  Glory  we  proclaim  !"  The  simple  fanes 
of  the  Western  World,  in  voices  ringing  and  clear,  "  The 
King  of  Glory  we  proclaim  !"  Thus  from  the  going 
forth  of  the  sun  from  the  end  of  the  heaven,  and  his  cir- 
cuit unto  the  ends  of  it,  the  great  anthem  rolled  on  from 
land  to  land,  from  sea  to  sea :  "  The  King  of  Glory  we 
proclaim  !" 

But  when  age  had  well  battered  his  decaying  taber- 
nacle, he  sung  a  sweeter  strain  than   this.     It  indicates 


-\N1JJ>^^»K^ 


^^^"^^p^u^^V^^ 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  233 

how  dear  to  his  soul  had  become  those  spiritual  mysteries 
of  which  apostles  wrote  and  prophets  sung. 

For  ever  with  the  Lord  : 
*     Amen,  so  let  it  be  : 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word, 
'  Tis  immortality. 

Here  in  the  body  pent, 

Absent  from  him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 

A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

My  Father's  house  on  high — 

Home  of  my  soul — how  near 
At  times,  to  Faith's  foreseeing  eye, 

The  golden  gates  appear. 

Ah  !  then  my  spirit  faints 

To  reach  the  land  I  love. 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 

Jerusalem  above. 

Yet  clouds  still  intervene, 

And  all  my  comfort  flies  ; 
Like  Noah's  dove  I  flit  between 

Rough  seas  and  stormy  skies. 

Anon  the  clouds  depart,  ^ 

The  winds  and  waters  cease, 
And  brightly  o'er  my  gladdened  heart 

Expands  the  bow  of  peace. 

Beneath  the  glowing  arch. 

Along  the  hallowed  ground, 
I  see  cherubic  armies  march, 

A  camp  of  fire  around. 
20* 


234  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

I  hear  at  morn  and  even, 

At  noon  and  midnight  hour, 
The  choral  harmonies  of  heaven 

Earth's  Babel  tongues  o'erpower. 

* 
Then,  then  I  feel  that  He, 

Remembered  or  forgot. 
The  Lord  is  never  far  from  me, 

Though  I  perceive  him  not. 


THOMAS  OLIVERS. 

"  He  was  the  worst  boy  that  had  been  known  in  all 
that  country  for  thirty  years,"  wrote  one  of  Thomas  Oli- 
vers, a  poor,  fatherless  boy,  who  in  the  friendlessness  of 
youth  had  been  led  astray,  and  whose  life  had  become 
continual  dishonor. 

But  this  youth  had  a  tender  conscience,  which  burned 
within  him  like  a  flame  in  his  lonely  hours,  and,  in  all  of 
his  lapses  and  far-wanderings,  he  was  ever  resolving  to 
amend  his  ways  and  to  lead  a  life  that  would  restore  to 
him  a  calm  mind. 

At  last  these  resolutions  got  the  better  of  his  moral 
weakness.  He  began  to  pray.  At  one  time  he  prayed 
so  often  that  his  knees  were  made  stiff  by  kneeling. 
But  he  was  still  weak,  and  was  often  led  astray  by  profli- 
gate companions,  and  fell  into  open  crime. 

Conscience  at  length  asserted  its  authority.  He 
was  completely  broken  down  by  an  overwhelming  sense 
of  guilt.  He  felt  now  that  there  was  no  power  within 
himself  to  save  himself  from  evil,  and  that  he  must  rely 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  235 

wholly  upon  Jesus  as  his  Saviour,  and  the  helpfuhiess  of 
Divine  providence  and  grace  for  salvation. 

His  prayers  were  now  answered.  Providence  led 
him  to  an  old  seaport  town  in  England,  where  White- 
field  had  an  appointment  to  preach.  He  determined  to 
go  and  hear  the  discourse  of  the  great  preacher,  which 
promised  to  be  helpful  in  a  case  like  his. 

"  When  the  sermon  began,"  he  says,  "  I  was  one  of 
the  most  abandoned  and  profligate  young  men  living; 
before  it  ended  I  was  a  new  creature."'  He  was  enabled 
at  once  to  cast  himself  on  the  mercy  of  his  Saviour, 
and  felt  at  once  uplifted  and  sustained  by  a  strong 
arm — an  experience  that  filled  him  with  devout  thankful- 
ness to  his  dying  day. 

"  The  worst  boy  in  all  that  country  "  was  now  a  happy 
man.  Besetting  sins  lost  their  attractions;  heavenly 
joys  were  his  continually.  His  faith  was  triumphant 
and  majestic.  "  I  saw  God  in  everything,"  he  said  ; 
"  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  and  all  therein,  showed  me 
something  of  Him." 

He  became  a  preacher.  He  was  ready  to  endure 
any  hardship,  any  persecution,  anything  for  the  strong 
love  of  Christ.  In  an  hour  of  gratitude  for  so  great  a 
deliverance,  and  for  such  mighty  power  to  uphold  his 
soul,  he  thus  penned  his  experience,  which  has  become 
one  of  the  thanksgivings  of  the  ages : 

I.     The  God  of  Abram  praise, 

Who  reigns  enthroned  above : 
Ancient  of  everlasting  days, 
And  God  of  love  : 


236  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Jehovah,  great  I  Am  ! 

By  earth  and  heaven  confessed, 
I  bow  and  bless  the  sacred  Name, 

For  ever  blest. 

The  God  of  Abram  praise. 

At  whose  supreme  command 
From  earth  I  rise,  and  seek  the  joys 

At  his  right  hand; 
I  all  on  earth  forsake. 

Its  wisdom,  fame  and  power; 
And  him  my  only  portion  make, 

My  shield  and  tower. 

The  God  of  Abram  praise. 

Whose  all-sufficient  grace 
Shall  guide  me  all  my  happy  days 

In  all  his  ways  : 
He  calls  a  worm  his  friend: 

He  calls  himself  my  God  ! 
And  he  shall  save  me  to  the  end. 

Through  Jesus'  blood. 

He  by  himself  hath  sworn : 

I  on  his  oath  depend  ; 
I  shall,  on  eagles'  wings  upborne, 

To  heaven  ascend ; 
I  shall  behold  his  face  ; 

I  shall  his  power  adore. 
And  sing  the  wonders  of  his  grace 

For  evermore. 

II.     Though  nature's  strength  decay, 
And  earth  and  hell  withstand. 
To  Canaan's  bounds  I  urge  my  way, 
At  His  commnnd  ; 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  237 

The  watery  deep  I  pass, 

With  Jesus  in  my  view ; 
And  through  the  howling  wilderness 

My  v.'ay  pursue. 

The  goodly  land  I  see, 

With  peace  and  plenty  blest ; 
A  land  of  sacred  liberty 

And  endless  rest. 
There  milk  and  honey  flow, 

And  oil  and  wine  abound ; 
And  trees  of  life  for  ever  grow, 

With  mercy  crowned. 

There  dwells  the  Lord  our  King, 

The  Lord  our  Righteousness, 
Triumphant  o'er  the  world  and  sin, 

The  Prince  of  Peace  : 
On  Zion's  sacred  height, 

His  kingdom  still  maintains  ; 
And,  glorious,  with  his  saints  in  light 

For  ever  reiirns. 


HYMNS  OF  MADAME  GUYON. 

The  hymns  of  Madame  Guyon,  which  are  to  be  found 
in  Cowper's  complete  works,  among  his  translations,  or 
which  have  been  translated  in  part  by  Dr.  Thomas  Up- 
ham,  and  a  few  of  which  are  found  in  the  hymn-books, 
deserve  to  be  better  known  and  understood.  They  are 
the  flowers  and  fruits  of  a  very  unusual  and  interesting 
religious  experience. 

Madame  Jeanne  de  la  Motte  Guyon  was  born  at 
Montargis,  in  1648,  and  was  educated,  according  to  the 


23S  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

custom  of  the  time,  in  the  convents  of  her  native  city. 
She  became  pious  in  girlhood,  and  early  consecrated  her 
life  to  God. 

The  period  in  which  she  lived  was  particularly  unfa- 
vorable for  religious  development — the  dazzling  but  cor- 
rupt reign  of  Louis  XIV.  The  people  were  taught  to 
rely  upon  the  observance  of  imposing  rites  and  ceremo- 
nies for  salvation,  rather  than  upon  a  state  of  spiritual 
renovation  and  an  inward  acquaintance  with  God.  13ut 
Mademoiselle  de  la  Mothe  found  this  sensational  reli- 
gion unsatisfying,  and  was  anxious  to  know  the  truth 
and  to  practise  it ;  and  the  Infinite  Mind  recognized  and 
fulfilled  the  desire. 

There  was  a  devout  father  of  the  religious  order  of 
St,  Francis,  who  had  s^Dcnt  some  five  years  in  acts  of 
devotion,  for  the  purpose  of  seeking  an  experimental 
union  with  God,  and  of  renouncing  selfish  interests  and 
desires,  that  he  might  be  better  prepared  to  teach  the 
truth  in  simplicity  and  purity,  and  God  seems  to  have 
revealed  himself  to  his  spiritual  perceptions,  and  to  have 
granted  him  great  spiritual  peace,  and  delightful  commu- 
nion with  the  unseen  world.  Although  a  Romanist,  he 
appears  to  have  been  truly  converted.  This  devout 
father  was  impressed  that  it  was  his  duty  to  labor  for 
the  conversion  of  some  person  of  distinction  ;  and,  led 
by  the  inward  monitor,  he  made  a  journey,  and  came  to 
the  house  of  M.  de  la  Mothe,  the  father  of  Madame 
Guyon.  He  here  became  acquainted  with  the  young 
inquirer.  She  related  to  him  her  religious  exercises  and 
inward  conflicts,  and  appealed  to  him  for  counsel.     The 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  239 

pious  Franciscan,  after  listening  to  her  narrative,  was  for 
a  time  silent,  engaged  in  inward  meditation  and  prayer. 
At  length  he  said,  "  Your  efforts  have  been  unsuccessful, 
madame,  because  you  have  sought  without  what  you  can 
only  find  within.  Seek  God  in  your  heart,  and  you  will 
not  fail  to  find  him."  A  new  light  immediately  broke 
upon  Madame  Guyon's  mind ;  and  the  way  of  a  spirit- 
ual acquaintance  with  God  was  clearly  revealed. 

She  gives  in  her  autobiography  the  following  account 
of  the  spiritual  exaltation  and  rapture  that  followed  this 
great  change : 

"  Nothing  was  more  easy  to  me  now  than  the  practice 
of  prayer.  Hours  passed  away  like  moments,  while  I 
could  hardly  do  anything  else  but  pray.  It  was  prayers 
of  rejoicing  and  possession,  wherein  the  taste  of  God 
was  so  great,  so  pure,  so  unblemished  and  uninterrupted, 
that  it  drew  and  absorbed  the  powers  of  my  soul  into  a 
state  of  confiding  and  affectionate  rest  in  God,  existing 
without  intellectual  effort.  I  had  now  no  sight  but  of 
Jesus  Christ  alone." 

Madame  Guyon  at  this  period  was  about  twenty  years 
of  age.  She  lived  in  the  enjoyment  of  religion  for  many 
years,  and,  after  the  death  of  her  husband,  felt  it  her 
duty  to  become  a  spiritual  instructor.  She  visited  Grex, 
Thonon,  and  Glenoble,  explaining  the  doctrine  of  clear 
religious  experience,  and  engaging  in  works  of  benevo- 
lence. At  this  period  she  wrote  a  book,  entitled,  "  Spirit- 
ual Torrents,"  in  which  religion  is  likened  to  a  moun- 
tain stream;  and  another,  entitled," A  Short  and  Easy 
Method  of  Prayer,"  resembling  in  sentiment  the  mysti- 


240  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

cal  teachings  of  Molinos.  In  i6S6,  she  went  to  Paris, 
where,  with  the  Duchess  of  Beauvilliers,  the  Duchess  of 
Bethune,  the  Countess  of  Guiche,  and  other  ladies  of 
rank,  she  organized  meetings  for  religious  conference 
and  prayer.  Her  written  works  exerting  a  powerful 
influence,  which  was  deemed  adverse  to  the  tenets  of 
Rome,  she  was  arrested  by  a  royal  order,  and  confined 
in  the  convent  of  St.  Marie.  She  was  released  through 
the  influence  of  Madame  de  Maintenon.  Her  opinions 
proving  attractive  to  Madame  de  Maintenon,  she  was 
permitted  to  disseminate  them  in  the  seminary  of  St. 
Cyr.  She  became  intimately  acquainted  with  the  learned 
and  illustrious  Fenelon,  Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  who 
favored  her  views  in  respect  to  inward  holiness  and  a 
state  of  continuous  fellowship  with  God.  She  was  ar- 
rested on  a  false  charge,  and  was  imprisoned  in  the 
ancient  castle  of  Vincennes.  She  was  removed  in  1689 
to  a  prison  in  the  Bastile.  The  walls  of  the  fortress 
were  nine  feet  thick,  and  a  narrow  slit  through  this  mas- 
sive masonry  admitted  all  the  light  that  ever  reached  the 
prisoner.  The  cells  were  narrow  and  dirty,  and  were 
covered  with  the  mould  of  ages.  They  were  damp  and 
bitter  cold  in  winter,  and  almost  suffocating  during  the 
heat  of  summer.  The  prisoner  was  allowed  no  privi- 
leges, no  books,  no  recreation,  no  employments. 

'•  Oh  !  who  can  tell  what  da^-s,  what  nights  she  spent 
Of  tideless,  waveless,  sailless,  shoreless  woe  !" 

In  this  abode  of  sorrow  Madame  Guyon  was  for  four 
vcars  immured.  Her  cell  was  next  to  that  of  the  Man 
of   the   Iron    Mask.      When    she   entered   these   gloomy 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  241 

portals,  she  expected  to  emerge  only  to  suffer  a  martyr's 
death.  In  her  former  persecutions  and  imprisonments 
her  triumphant  spirit  had  never  quailed.  Her  mind  had 
been  stayed  on  God,  and  kept  in  perfect  peace.  At  times 
it  seemed  rapt  up  to  heaven,  and  to  dwell  in  an  atmo- 
sphere of  celestial  light  and  glory.  The  radiance  of  the 
unseen  world  had  dissipated  the  darkness  of  her  dun- 
geon. When  imprisoned  in  the  castle  of  Vincennes,  her 
elevation  of  soul  was  such  that  she  declared  the  very 
stones  of  her  cell  looked  to  her  like  rubies.  How  did 
she  meet  this  last  terrible  ordeal,  the  worst  that  human 
power  could  devise  .-*     Listen : 

"  I  feel  no  anxiety  in  view  of  what  my  enemies  will 
do  to  me.  I  have  no  fear  of  anything  but  of  being  left 
to  myself.  So  long  as  God  is  with  me,  neither  imprison- 
ment nor  death  will  have  any  terrors.  If  they  should 
proceed  to  extremities,  and  should  put  me  to  death 
come  and  see  me  die.  Do  as  Mary  Magdalen  did,  who 
never  left  him  that  taught  her  the  knowledge  of  pure 
love." 

She  was  finally  banished  to  Diziers,  and  died  at  the 
city  of  Blois,  at  a  very  advanced  age. 

Madame  Guyon  in  her  last  years  seemed  to  dwell,  as 
it  were,  in  Immanuel's  land.  She  feared  neither  bas- 
tiles  nor  death.  She  speaks  of  her  mind  as  fixed  upon 
God  alone,  and  enjoying  uninterrupted  communion  with 
him. 

Her  poems  are  a  revelation  of  her  religious  life  and 
luminous  experiences.  She  was  accustomed  to  make  all 
special  trials  and   refreshments   the  subject  of    poetic 

Story  or  lljmn».  2i 


242  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

composition.     Perhaps  no  other  writer  has  so  fully  em- 
bodied a  long  religious  experience  in  verse. 

Of  her  habitual  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  she 
says : 

"  To  me  remains  nor  place  nor  time: 
My  country  is  in  every  clime  ; 
I  can  be  calm  and  free  from  care 
On  any  shore,  since  God  is  there. 

*'  While  place  we  seek  or  place  we  shun, 
The  soul  finds  happiness  in  none ; 
But,  with  a  God  to  guide  our  way, 
'Tis  equal  joy  to  go  or  stay. 

"  My  country,  Lord,  art  thou  alone. 
No  other  can  I  claim  my  own  ; 
The  point  where  all  my  wishes  meet, 
My  law,  my  love,  life's  only  sweet. 

"  Ah,  then  !  to  his  embrace  repair, 
My  soul,  thou  art  no  stranger  there. 
There  love  divine  shall  be  thy  guard, 
And  peace  and  safety  thy  reward." 


Again : 


"To  me  'tis  equal,  whether  love  ordain 

My  hfe  or  death,  appoint  me  pain  or  ease ; 
My  soul  perceives  no  real  ill  in  pain ; 
In  ease  or  health  no  real  good  she  sees. 

*'  One  good  she  covets,  and  that  good  alone : 
To  choose  thy  will  from  selfish  bias  free : 
And  to  prefer  a  cottage  to  a  throne. 
And  grief  to  comfort,  if  it  pleases  thee. 

"  That  we  should  bear  the  cross  is  thy  command, 
Die  to  the  world,  and  live  to  self  no  more ; 
Suffer,  unmoved,  beneath  the  rudest  hand  ; 

When  shipwrecked  pleased  as  when  upon  the  shore." 


AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL  HYMNS.  243 

Of  her  imprisonments : 

"  Nor  castle  walls,  nor  dungeons  deep, 

Exclude  His  quickening  beams, 

There  I  can  sit  and  sing  and  weep, 

And  dwell  on  heavenly  themes. 

"  There  sorrow,  for  His  sake,  is  found 
A  joy  beyond  compare. 
There  no  presumptuous  thoughts  abound, 
No  pride  can  enter  there." 

Of  her  elevation  of  soul : 

"  Oh,  glory  in  which  I  am  lost, 

Too  deep  for  the  plummet  of  thought, 
On  an  ocean  of  Deity  tossed, 

I  am  swallowed,  I  sink  into  naught, 
Yet,  lost  and  absorbed  as  I  seem, 

I  chant  to  the  praise  of  my  King, 
And,  though  overwhelmed  by  the  theme 

Am  happy  whenever  I  sing." 

Madame  Guyon  loved  to  frequent  solitary  places  for 
religious  meditation,  and  to  pray  in  solitude.  Once 
when  stopping  near  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  she  says: 
"  On  the  banks  of  the  river,  finding  a  solitary  place,  I 
sought  intercourse  with  my  God.  The  communications 
of  Divine  love  were  unutterably  sweet  to  my  soul,  in 
that  retirement."  She  often  alludes  to  her  devotions  in 
secluded  places  in  her  poems  : 

"  Here  sweetly  forgetting,  and  wholly  forgot, 
By  the  world  and  its  turbulent  throng, 
The  birds  and  the  streams  lend  me  many  a  note 
That  aids  meditation  and  song. 


244  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

"  Ah  !  send  me  not  back  to  the  race  of  mankind, 
Perversely  by  folly  beguiled, 
For  where,  in  the  crowds  I  have  left,  shall  I  find 
The  spirit  and  heart  of  a  child? 

"  Here  let  me,  though  fixed  in  a  desert,  be  free ; 
A  little  one  whom  they  despise, 
Though  lost  to  the  world,  if  in  union  with  thee, 
Shall  be  holy  and  happy  and  wise." 

Madame  Guyon  was  accustomed,  at  one  period  of  her 
life,  to  arise  before  daybreak  for  prayer : 

"  Through  the  dark  and  silent  night 
On  thy  radiant  smiles  I  dwelt. 
And  to  see  the  dawning  light 
Was  the  keenest  pain  I  felt." 

She  sings  the  spiritual  happiness  she  found  in  com- 
munion with  God,  during  the  night  season,  in  several 
noble  poems,  from  which  we  add  the  following: 

"  Night !  how  I  love  thy  silent  shades. 
My  spirits  they  compose ; 
The  bliss  of  heaven  my  soul  pervades, 
In  spite  of  all  my  woes. 

"  Sleep  at  last  has  fled  these  eyes, 
Nor  do  I  regret  his  flight, 
More  alert  my  spirits  rise, 
And  my  heart  is  free  and  light 

"  Nature  silent  all  around. 
Not  a  single  witness  near; 
God  as  soon  as  sought  is  found. 
And  the  flame  of  love  burns  clear." 


IX.   FAMILIAR   HYMNS: 

THEIR  AUTHORS,  DATES,  ETC., 

AND  PAGES  OF  THIS  WORK  WHERE  ANY  ARE  MENTIONED. 


Abide  with  me  ;  fast  falls  the  eventide.     Lyte,  1S47.     See  page  211. 
A  charge  to  keep  I  have.     Charles  Wesley,  1763. 

A  debtor  to  mercy  alone.     Augustus  Montague  Toplady.     See  page  29. 
A  few  more  years  shall  roll.     Horatius  Bonar,  1S56.     "Hymns  of  Faith 
and  Hope." 

A  glory  gilds  the  sacred  page.     Wm.  Cowper,  1779.     "Olney  Hymns." 
Ah,  not  like  erring  man  is  God.     Henry  Ustick  Onderdonk,  1S26. 
All  glory,  laud,  and  honor.     Theodiilph;  translated  by  J.  M.  Neale. 

Written  during  imprisonment.     Being  sung  by  its  autlior  at  his  prison  window  in  the 
hearing  of  the  Emperor,  Louis  I.,  it  gained  the  monk  a  pardon. 

All  hail  the  power  of  Jesus'  name.     Edward  Perronet.     See  page  13. 
-All  people  that  on  earth  do  dwell.     William  Kethe. 
/'  Kethe  was  a  clergyman,  an  army  chaplain,  and  an  exile  with  Knox  at  Geneva  in  1555. 

All  praise  to  Thee,  my  God,  this  night.     Thomas  Ken.     See  page  17. 
Almost  persuaded  now  to  believe.     P.  P.  Bliss. 

This  is  one  of  the  revival  hymns  used  by  Ira  D.  Sankey,  the  coadjutor  of  Mr.  Moody. 
Am  I  a  soldier  of  the  Cross  ?     Isaac  Watts.  1709. 

A  Mountain  Fastness  is  our  God.      Martin  Luther  ;  translated  by  W.  R. 
Whittingham.     See  page  15. 

.And  is  this  life  prolonged  to  me.'     Watts.     See  page  223. 
Angels  from  the  realms  of  glory.     James  Montgomery,  1S19. 
Angels,  roll  the  rock  awav.     Thomas  Scott  and.  Thomas  Gibbons,  1773. 

•21* 


246  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Another  six  days'  work  is  done.     Joseph  Stennett. 
A  poor  wayfaring  man  of  grief.     James  Montgomery. 
Arm  of  the  Lord,  awake,  awake  !     William  Shrubsole. 
Around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven.     Anne  Houlditch  Shcpard. 
Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid!     Stephen  the  Sabaite  ;  translated  by 
J.  M.  Neale. 
Passed  fifty-nine  years  in  religious  seclusion.    Stephen  was  born,  725 ;  died,  794. 

Asleep  in  Jesus,  blessed  sleep.     Margaret  Mackay,  1832. 

Mrs.  Mackay  was   a  Scotch  religious  writer.  ' 

A  Star  from  heaven  once  went  astray.     Jas.  Montgomery.     See  page  228. 

As  when  the  weary  traveller  gains.     John  Newton. 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song.     William  Hammond,  1745. 

Mr.  Hammond  was  a  Calvinist  Methodist,  and  a  friend  of  Cennick. 

Awake,  my  soul,  and  with  the  sun.     Thomas  Ken,     See  page  17. 

Awake,  my  soul,  stretch  every  nerve.     Philip  Doddridge. 

Awake,  my  soul,  to  joyful  lays.     Samuel  Medley,  1787.     See  page  139. 
Rippon's  Selection.     The  following  is  the  original : 

Awake,  my  soul,  in  joyful  lays.  When  earthly  friends  forsake  me  quite, 

And  sing  thy  great  Redeemer's  praise;        And  I  have  neither  skill  nor  might, 
He  justly  claims  a  song  from  me.  He's  sure  my  helper  to  appear; 

His  loving-kindness  is  so  free!  His  loving-kindness  is  so  near  ! 

He  saw  me  ruined  in  the  fall.  Often  I  feel  my  sinful  heart 

Yet  loved  me,  notwithstandmg  all ;  Prone  from  my  Jesus  to  depart ; 

He  saved  me  from  my  lost  estate;  And  though  I  oft  have  him  forgot, 

His  loving-kindness  is  so  great.  His  loving-kindness  changes  not. 

Through  mighty  hosts  of  cruel  foes.  So  when  I  pass  death's  gloomy  vale 

Where  earth  and  hell  my  way  oppose,  And  life  and  mortal  powers  shall  fail. 

He  safely  leads  my  soul  along;  Oh  may  my  last  expiring  breath 

Hi.-i  loving-kindness  is  so  strong  !  His  loving-kindness  sing  in  death  ! 

Awaked  by  Sinai's  awful  sound.     Written  by  Samson  Occom  in  1760. 

Occom  was  an  Indian,  and  was  converted  in  the  revival  of  1740,  under  Whitefield  and 
his  colaborers.  He  preached  among  the  Montauk  Indians  with  great  success;  vis- 
ited England,  where  his  preaching  was  attended  by  immense  congregations,  and 
where  in  a  single  year  he  preached  nearly  four  hundred  sermons.  His  Indian  school 
proved  the  beginning  of  Dartmouth  College. 

Away  with  our  fears.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  226. 

Before  Jehovah's  awful  throne.     Isaac  Watts. 

Behold  the  glories  of  the  Lamb.     Isaac  Watts.     See  page  219, 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  247 

Behold  the  Saviour  of  mankind.     Samuel  Wesley,  1719. 

This  hymn  was  saved  from  the  flames  at  the  burning  of  Epworth  Parsonage,  when 
John  Wesley  was  a  child. 

Blest  be  the  tie  that  binds.     John  Fawcett.     See  page  37. 

Blow  ye  the  trumpet,  blow.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  226. 

Bound  upon  th'  accursed  tree.     Milman. 

Breast  the  wave,  Christian.     Joseph  Stammers,  1830. 
Mr.  Stammers  is  an  English  barrister. 

Brethren  beloved,  your  calling  see.     C.  Wesley.     Se_e  page  225. 

Brief  life  is  here  our  portion.     Bernard  of  Cluny ;  by  J.  M.  Neale. 

Brightly  beams  our  Father's  mercy.     P.  P.  Bliss. 

Brightest  and  best  of  the  sons  of  the  morning.     Reginald  Heber,  181 1. 

By  cool  Siloam's  shady  rill.     Reginald  Heber,  1812.     See  page  155. 

Calm  on  the  listening  ear  of  night.     Edmund  Hamilton  Sears,  1837. 
Originally  appeared  in  the  Boston  Observer. 

Children  of  the  Heavenly  King.     John  Cennick,  1742. 
The  following  beautiful  stanza  is  usually  altered  or  omitted: 
"  O  ye  banished  seed,  be  glad  ! 
Christ  our  Advocate  is  made ; 
Us  to  save,  our  flesh  assumes  ; 
Brother  to  our  souls  becomes." 

Come,  all  ye  saints,  to  Pisgah's  mountain.     Rev.  J.  W.  Dadmun. 

This  is  a  hymn  of  the  heart.  Mr.  Dadmun  says,  "  I  never  wrote  but  one  hymn  that  I 
consider  worth  naming;  and  that  was  written  on  the  death  of  three  of  my  children, 
all  of  whom  died  in  the  short  space  of  three  months.  The  title  of  it  is,  'Our  Loved 
Ones  m  Heaven,'  and  it  was  composed  in  1862.  It  was  the  expression  of  my  faith 
in  God,  and  hope  of  a  glorious  immortality,  when  called  to  part  with  my  'loved 
ones.'     I  published  it  in  the  '  New  Melodeon,'  pages  48-g." 

The  following  is  the  first  verse  of  the  hymn: 
"  Come,  all  ye  saints,  to  Pisgah's  mountain,  Some  of  bright  crowns  of  glory  are  singing, 

Come,  view  your  home  beyond  the  tide  ;  Some  of  dear  ones  who  stand  near  the  shore, 

Hear  now  the  voices  of  your  loved  ones.  For  the  fond  heart  must  ever  be  clin-ing 

What  they  sing  on  the  other  side:  To  the  faithful  we  love  evermore." 

Come,  Holy  Spirit,  Heavenly  Dove.     Isaac  Watts,  1707. 

Come,  let  us  anew  our  journey  pursue.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  109. 

Come,  let  us  join  our  cheerful  songs.     Isaac  Watts,  1709. 

Come,  let  us  join  our  friends  above.    C.  Wesley,  1759.    "  Funeral  Hymns." 

Come,  my  soul,  thy  suit  prepare.     John  Newton. 


248  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Come,  O  thou  all-victorious  Lord.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  226. 
Come,  O  thou  Traveller  unknown.     C.  Wesley. 
Come,  thou  Almighty  King.     Charles  Wesley. 

Come,  thou  Fount  of  every  blessing.  Robinson.     See  page  42. 

Two  original  stanzas  in  this  hymn  are.  omitted  in  all  modern  collections.     They  are 

"  Oh,  that  day  when,  freed  from  sinning,  "  If  thou  ever  didst  discover 

I  shall  see  thy  lovely  face;  Unto  me  the  promised  land, 

Rob6d  then  in  blood-washed  linen,  Bid  me  now  the  stream  pass  over, 

Now  I'll  sing  thy  sovereign  grace.  On  the  heavenly  border  stand. 

Come,  dear  Lord,  no  longer  tarry.  Help  surmount  whate'er  opposes, 

Take  my  raptured  soul  away;  Unto  thy  embraces  fly; 

Send  thine  angels  down  to  carry  Speak  the  word  thou  didst  to  Moses, 

Me  to  realms  of  encless  day.  Bid  me  get  me  up  and  die." 

Come,  thou  Holy  Spirit,  come.     King  Robert  II.     See  page  67. 

Come  to  Jesus.     Anonymous. 

This  refrain  was  very  popular  in  Scotland  some  years  ago.  when  multitudes  used  to 
sing  it  after  listening  to  fervent  preaching  in  the  open  air. 

Come,  we  that  love  the  Lord.     Isaac  Watts. 

Come,  ye  disconsolate,  where'er  ye  languish.     Moore. 

Come,  ye  sinners,  poor  and  needy.     Joseph  Hart.     See  page  35. 

Commit  thou  all  thy  grie's.     Gerhardt.     See  page  82. 

Daily,  daily  sing  the  praises.     Gould.     See  page  154. 

Day  of  Judgment,  Day  of  wonders,     John  Newton. 

Day  of  wrath  ;  oh,  day  of  mouruing.     Thomas  of  Celano;  translated  by 
W.  F.  Irons,  Dean  Alford,  ar.d  scores  of  others. 
The  following  is  the  Latin  origi.al: 

Dies  irs,  dies  ilia.  Judex  ergo  ciim  sedebit, 

Solvet  sseclum  in  favillu,  Quidquid  latet  apparebit. 

Teste  David  cum  sibyll^.  Nil  inultum  remanebit. 

Quantus  tremor  est  futurus,  Quid  sum  miser  tunc  dicturus 

Quando  judex  est  venturus,  Quem  patronum  rogaturus, 

Cuncta  stricte  discussurus  !  Cum  vix  Justus  sit  securus  ? 

Tuba,  mirum  spargens  sonum  Rex  tremenda;  majestatis. 

Per  sepulchra  regionum.  Qui  salvandos  salvas  gratis, 

Coget  omnes  ante  thronum.  Salva  me,  fons  pietatis. 

Mors  stupebil,  et  natura,  Recordare,  Jesu  pie. 

Cum  resurget  creatura  Quod  sum  causa  tux  viae, 

Judicanti  responsura.  Ne  me  perdas  ilia  die. 

Liber  scriptus  proferetur,  Qusrens  me  sedisti  lassus, 

Tn  quo  totem  continetur  Redemisti  crucem  passus; 

Unde  mundus  judicetur.    ,  Tantus  labor  non  sit  cassus. 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  249 

-Juste  judex  ultionis,  Inter  oves  locum  prjecta. 

Donum  fac  remissionis  Et  ab  hcedis  me  sequestra, 

Ante  diem  rationis.  Statuens  in  parte  dextri. 

Ingemisco  tanquam  reus  Confutatis  maledictis, 

CulpS  rubet  vultus  meus  Flammis  acribus  addictis, 

Supplicanti  parce,  Deus  !  Voca  me  cum  benedictis  ! 

Qui  Mariam  absolvisti,  Oro  supplex  et  acclinis, 

Et  latronem  exaudisti,  Cor  contritum  quasi  cinis; 

Mihi  quoque  spem  dedistL  Gere  curam  mei  finis. 

Preces  meae  non  sunt  dignse;  Lacrymosa  dies  ilia, 

Sed  tu,  bonus,  fac  benigne,  Qui  resurget  ex  favilU 

Nee  pereuni  cremer  igne.  Judicandus  homo  reus; 

Huic  ergo  parce,  Deus  ! 
Pie  Jesu,  Domine,  dona  eis  requiem.     Amen. 

Dear  as  thou  wert,  and  justly  dear.     Thomas  Dale,  1797. 
A  funeral  piece  in  Dale's  "  Widow  of  Nain." 

Depth  of  mercy !  can  there  be  ?     C.  Wesley. 

Did  Christ  o'er  sinners  weep  .^     Beddome,  1787. 

Ein'  feste  Burg  ist  unser  Gott.     Luther.     See  page  15. 

Ev'n  such  is  time,  that  takes  on  trust.     Raleigh.     See  page  80. 

Fade,  fade,  each  earthly  joy.     Bonar.     See  page  196. 

Far  from  the  world,  O  Lord,  I  flee.     Cowper.     See  pages  44,  49. 

Father,  whate'er  of  earthly  bliss.     Anne  Steele,  1760.     See  page  58. 

Fear  not,  O  little  flock,  the  foe.     Altenburg.     See  page  70. 

Fierce  was  the  wild  billow.     Anatolius  and  J.  M.  Neale.     See  page  173. 

For  ever  with  the  Lord.     James  Montgomery.     See  page  233. 

For  thee,  O  dear,  dear  country.      Bernard  of  Cluny ;  translated  by  J.  M. 

Neale. 
Forth  in  thy  name,  O  Lord,  I  go.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  226. 
Fountain  of  life  and  all  my  joy.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  226. 
From  all  that  dwell  below  the  skies.     Isaac  Watts,  1719. 

From  every  stormy  wind  that  blows.     Hugh  Stowell. 
From  Stowell's  "  Pleasures  of  Religion." 

From  Greenland's  icy  mountains.     Reginald  Ifeber.     See  page  40. 

From  out  this  dim  and  gloomy  hollow.     Schiller.     See  page  85. 

(iive  me  my  scallop-shell  of  quiet.     Walter  Raleigh.     See  page  79. 


250  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Glorious  things  of  thee  are  spoken.     John  Newton,  1779. 

Glory  and  thanks  to  God  we  give.  Written  by  Charles  Wesley  after  a 
deliverance  from  death. 
"  On  his  third  visit  to  Leeds,"  says  one  describing  the  somewhat  remarkable  occasion 
"he  met  the  society  in  an  old  upper  room,  which  was  dense'y  packed,  and  crowds 
could  not  gain  admission.  He  removed  nearer  the  door,  that  those  without  misht 
hear  him,  and  drew  the  people  after  him.  Instantly  the  rafters  broke,  and  the  floor 
sunk,  and  more  than  one  hundred  people  fell  into  the  room  below."  Several  were 
seriously  injured,  but  none  killed;  and  the  new  converts,  instead  of  being  overcome 
with  fear,  broke  forth  in  utterances  of  triumphant  faith. 

Glory  to  God,  whose  sovereign  grace.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  225. 

Glory  to  thee,  my  God,  this  night.     Ken.     See  page  22. 

God  bless  our  native  land.      From  the    German,  By  C.    T.    Brooks  and 

J.  S.  Dwight,  1844. 
God  calling  yet — and  shall  I  never  hearken.'    Tersteegen.    See  page  164. 

God  is  our  refuge  in  distress.     Tate  and  Brady. 

Tate  was  poet-laureate  from  i6go  to  1715.  His  "  Metrical  Version  of  the  Psalms" 
was  the  standard  and  authorized  version  of  the  limes.  He  was  assisted  in  the  com- 
position of  this  work  by  Nicholas  Brady. 

God  of  my  life,  to  thee.     G.  Wesley.     See  page  226. 

God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way.     William  Cowper.     See  page  44. 

Golden  head  so  lowly  bending.     Putnam's  Magazine.     See  page  148. 

Go  to  dark  Gethsemane.     James  Montgomery,  1822. 

Grace!  'tis  a  charming  sound.     Philip  Doddridge. 

Great  God,  what  do  I  see  and  hear  !     William  Bengo  Collyer. 

Mr.  Collyer  was  pastor  of  a  Congregational  church  in  London  from  1811  to  1854. 
Guide  me,  O  thou  Great  Jehovah.     William  Williams.     See  page  30. 
Hail,  thou  long-e-xpected  Jesus.      C.  Wesley.      "  Hymns  for  the  Nativ- 
ity," 1745. 
Hail,  thou  once-despised  Jesus.     John  Bakewell. 

Wesley  says  that  Bakewell  "adorned  the  doctrine  of  God  our  Saviour  80  years,  and 
preached  His  gospel  70  years.  He  was  a  friend  of  Olivers,  who  wrote  "  The  God 
of  Abram  praise"  at  his  house. 

Hail  to  the  Lord's  AncJ^nted.     James  Montgoinery. 

Hark!  hark!  my  soul ;  angelic  songs  are  swelling.     F.  W.  Faber.     See 

page  188. 
Hark!  the  glad  sound  !  the  Saviour  comes.     Philip  Doddridge. 

Written  to  supplement  a  sermon  preached  Dec.  28,  1755. 
H.irk  !  the  voice  of  love  and  mercv.     Jonathan  Evans.     See  page  131. 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  251 

Hark!  w)iit  mean  those  holy  voices  ?     John  Cawood,  1775-1852. 

Have  you  on  the  Lord  believed  ?     P.  P.  Bliss. 

Heaven  is  my  home.     Taylor.     See  page  159. 

He  leadeth  me!  oh,  blessed  thought.     Gilmore.     See  page  167. 

He  sendeth  sun,  He  sendeth  shower.     S.  F.  Adams.     See  page  205. 

High  the  angel  choirs  are  raising.     Kempis.     See  page  77. 

How  are  thy  servants  blest,  O  Lord.     Addison.     See  page  98. 

How  beauteous  are  their  feet.     Isaac  Watts. 

How  firm  a  foundation,  ye  saints  of  the  Lord.     George  Keith,  1787. 

How  happy  are  the  little  flock.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  ri4. 

How  happy  every  child  of  grace.     C.  Wesley. 

How  happy,  gracious  Lord,  are  we.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  loS. 

How  happy  is  the  pilgrim's  lot.     John  Wesley.     See  page  104. 

This  hymn,  which  is,  perhaps,  the  most  condensed  and  perfect  narrative  we  have  of 
John  Wesley's  religious  experience,  was  written  before  his  marriage,  and  the  original 
contains  the  following  stanza,  omitted  in  all  collections: 
"  I  have  no  sharer  of  my  heart  Only  betrothed  to  Christ  am  I, 

To  rob  my  Saviour  of  a  part.  And  wait  his  coming  from  the  sky, 

And  desecrate  the  whole.  To  wed  my  happy  soul." 

How  sweetly  flowed  the  Gospel  sound.     Bowring. 

This  popular  church  hymn  appears  in  Sir  John  Bowring's  "Matins  and  Vespers," 
and  was  evidently  inspired  by  true  devotional  feeling.  He  says  of  the  hymns  in  the 
collection  in  which  it  appeared: 

"  So  much  of  serene  and  so  much  of  joyful  feeling,  so  much  of  calm  and  grateful 
recollection,  so  much  of  present  peace  and  comfort,  and  so  much  of  holy  and  trans- 
porting hope,  are  connected  with  the  cultivation  of  the  devotional  spirit,  that  to 
assist  its  exercises,  to  administer  to  its  wants,  and  to  accompany  its  heavenly  aspi- 
rations, are  objects  worthy  of  the  noblest,  the  best  ambitions. 

"  In  attempting  to  give  some  of  the  ornaments  of  song  to  such  contemplations, 
and  such  expressions  as  become  those  who  have  formed  a  true  estimate  of  life,  and 
of  the  ends  of  living,  I  trust  I  have  never  forgotten  that  the  substance  of  piety  is  of 
higher  interest  than  any  of  its  decorations,  that  the  presence  of  truth  is  of  more  im- 
portance than  the  garment  it  wears. 

"  I  have  often  witnessed,  with  complacency  and  delight,  the  consoling  influence 
produced  by  the  recollection  of  some  passage  of  devotional  poetry,  under  circum- 
stances the  most  disheartening  and  sufferings  the  most  oppressive.  Should  any 
fragment  of  this  little  book,  remembered  and  dwelt  upon  in  moments  of  gloom  and 
anxiety,  tend  to  restore  peace,  to  awaken  fortitude,  to  create,  to  renew,  or  to 
strengthen  confidence  in  Heaven,  I  shall  have  obtained  the  boon  f  jr  which  I  pray — 
the  end  to  which  I  aspire.  ' 

"  These  Hymns  were  not  written  in  the  pursuit  of  fame  or  literary  triumph.  They 
are  full  of  borrowed  images,  of  thoughts  and  feelings  excited  less  by  my  own  con- 
templations than  by  the  writings  of  others." 


252  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

How  sweetly  flowed  the  gospel  sound  "  Come,  wanderers,  to  my  Father's  home  ; 

From  lips  of  gentleness  and  grace.  Come,  all  ye  weary  ones,  and  rest  1" 

When  listening  thousands  gathered  round.  Yes!  sacred  Teacher,  we  will  come. 

And  joy  and  reverence  filled  the  place  !  Obey  thee,  love  thee,  and  be  blest! 

from  heaven  he  came — of  heaven  he  spoke.  Decay,  then,  tenements  of  dust  ! 

To  heaven  he  led  his  followers'  way  ;  Pillars  of  earthly  pride,  decay  ! 

Dark  clouds  of  gloomy  night  he  broke,  A  nobler  mansion  waits  the  just, 

Unveiling  an  immortal  day.  And  Jesus  has  prepared  the  way. 

The  solemn  chant,  "  From  the  recesses  of  a  lowly  spirit,"  appears  in  the  same  voluma 

How  sweet  the  name  of  Jesus  sounds.     John  Newton. 

How  vain  are  all  things  here  below.     Watts.     See  page  220. 

How  vast  a  treasure  we  possess.     Watts.     See  page  223. 

I  am  so  glad  that  our  t"ather  in  heaven.     Bliss.     See  page  169. 

I  am  trusting  Lord  in  Thee.     William  McDonald. 

Mr.  McDonald  is  a  most  successful  revival  preacher  in  the  Methodist  connection,  and 
often  makes  use  of  this  hymn  in  inviting  the  penitent  to  kneel  for  prayers. 

I  gave  my  life  for  thee. 

Written  in  youth  by  Miss  Frances  Ridley  Havergal,  daughter  of  Rev.  W.  H.  Haver- 
gal.     See  page  169. 

I  have  entered  the  valley  of  blessing,  so  sweet.     Annie  Wittenmeyer. 

I  heard  the  voice  of  Jesus  say.     H.  Bonar.     See  page  194. 

I  hear  thy  welcome  voice.     L.  Hartsough. 

I  hear  the  Saviour  say.     Mrs.  E.  M.  Hall. 

I  lay  my  wants  on  Jesus.     Bonar.     See  page  195. 

I  '11  praise  my  Maker  with  my  breath.     Isaac  Watts.     Sec  page  224. 

1  'm  but  a  stranger  here.     Taylor.     See  page  160. 

I  love  my  God,  but  with  no  love  of  mine.     Madame  Guyon. 

I  love  thy  kingdom.  Lord.     Timothy  Dwight. 

Timothy  Dwight  was  born  at  Northampton,  Mass.,  May  14,  1752,  and  graduated  at 
Yale  College  at  the  age  of  thirteen.  He  wrote  several  religious  poems  of  considera- 
ble length.  In  1795  he  was  elected  President  of  Yale  College,  and  in  1800  he  revised 
Watts'  Psalms,  at  the  request  of  the  General  Association  of  Connecticut,  adding  a 
number  of  translations  of  his  own.  Among  the  best  known  of  these  original  produc- 
tions is  the  above  hymn. 

I  love  thy  kingdom,  Lord,  I  love  thy  Church,  O  God; 

The  house  of  thine  abode.  Her  walls  before  thee  stand. 

The  Church  our  blest  Redeemer  saved  Dear  as  the  apple  of  thine  eye, 

With  his  own  precious  blood.  And  graven  on  thy  hand. 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS. 


It  e'er  to  bless  thy  sons 

My  voice  or  hands  deny, 
These  hands  let  useful  skill  forsake, 

This  voice  in  silence  die. 


For  her  my  tears  shall  fall ; 

For  her  my  prayers  ascend  ; 
To  her  my  cares  and  toils  be  given, 

Till  toils  and  cares  shall  end. 


Beyond  my  highest  joy 
I  prize  her  heavenly  ways, 

Her  sweet  communion,  solemn  vows, 
Her  hymns  of  love  and  praise. 

Jesus,  thou  Friend  divine, 
Our  Saviour  and  our  King, 

Thy  hand  from  every  snare  and  foe 
Shall  great  deliverance  bring. 

Sure  as  thy  truth  shall  last, 

To  Sion  shall  be  given 
The  brightest  glories  earth  can  yield. 

And  brighter  bliss  of  heaven. 

I  love  Thee,  I  love  Thee,  etc.     Jer.  Ingalls,  1805. 

I  love  to  steal  awhile  away.     See  page  48. 

This  hymn,  by  Mrs.  Phoebe  H.  Brown,  originally  began  with  a  stanza,  which  is  omit- 
ted in  all  collections: 

Yes,  when  the  toilsome  day  is  gone. 

And  night  with  banners  gray 
Steals  silently  the  glade  along, 
Ip  sunlight's  soft  array. 

In  all  my  Lord's  appointed  ways. 

Rev.  John  Ryland,  D.  D.,  an  English  Baptist  minister,  composed  this  hymn  while 
listening  to  a  sermon  preached  in  his  own  pulpit.  "  Dr.  Ryland."  says  an  account, 
"  sat  in  the  desk  below  the  pulpit  to  read  the  hymns;  and,  as  his  brother  proceeded, 
every  head  of  the  discourse  was  turned  into  poetry,  which  at  the  end  of  the  sermon 
was  duly  read,  and  a  portion  of  it  sung." 

In  de  dark  wood,  no  Indian  nigh.     Apes.     See  page  181. 

In  some  way  or  other  the  Lord  will  provide. 

Written  by  Mrs.  M.  A.  W.  Cook,  wife  of  Rev.  Parsons  Cook  of  Massachusetts.  It 
was  written  for  the.  "American  Messenger,"  and  first  published  in  1S70.  It  was 
set  to  music  by  Prof.  C.  S.  Harrington,  of  the  Wesleyan  University  at  Middletown, 
Conn.  The  hymn  is  very  pipular  both  in  America  and  Germany.  We  give  both 
the  English  and  the  German  versions. 

In   some  way  or  other  the   Lord  will  pro-     Despond  then  no  longer;   the  Lord  will  pro- 
vide ;  vide ; 
It  may  not  be  my  way,                                         .^nd  this  be  the  token — 
It  may  not  be  thy  way.                                         No  word  he  hath  spoken 
And  yet,  in  his  own  way,                                     W  as  ever  yet  broken — 
"  The  Lord  will  provide."                                    "  The  Lord  will  provide." 

At  some  time  or  other  the   I  ord  will  pro-     March  on,  then,  right  boldly;   the  sea  shall 
vide;  -divide; 

It  may  not  be  my  time,  The  pathway  made  glorious. 

It  may  not  be  thy  time,  \\  ith  shoutings  victorious 

And  yet,  in  his  own  time.  We  'il  join  in  the  chorus, 

'"  The  Lord  will  proviue."  "The  Lord  will  provide." 

22 


2S4 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 


DER  HERR  WIRD'S  VERSEHEN. 
Sei's  so  odei  :;nders,  der  Herr  wird's  ver-     Sei's  jetzt  oder  spiiter,  der  Herr  wird's  ver- 
sehe.i;  sehen; 

Mag's  r.icht  sein  wie  ich  will,  Mag's  nicht  sein  wann  ich  will, 

Mag's  nicht  sein  wie  du  willst,  Mag's  nicht  sein  wann  du  willst, 

Doch  wird's  sein  wie  Er  will:  Doch  wird's  sein  wann  Er  will: 

Der  Herr  wird's  versehen.  Der  Herr  wird's  versehen. 

So  zage  nicht  langer,  der  Herr  wird's  versehen; 
Und  dies  sei  dein  Zeichen: 
Nie  hat  Er  gebrochen 
Was  einst  Er  gesprochen  ; 
Der  Herr  wird's  versehen. 

In  the  Christian's  home  in  glory.      Rev.  J.  Y.  Harmer. 

In  the  cross  of  Christ  I  glory.     Bowring. 

In  the  silent  midnight  watches.     By  Arthur  Cleveland  Coxe. 

Mr.  Coxe  was  born  in  New  Jersey,  May  lo,  iSiS,  was  educated  at  the  General  Theo- 
logical Seminary,  New  York,  and  in   1S40  published  a  volume  of  religious  poems, 
which  passed  through  five  editions. 
Is  there  a  thing  beneath  the  sun?     Tersteegen.     See  page  162. 

It  came  upon  the  midnight  clear.     Edmund  Hamilton  Sears,  1850. 

I  think,  when  I  read  that  sweet  story  of  old.     Jemima  Luke.     See  p.  146. 

It  js  told  me  I  must  die.     Langhorn.     See  page  117. 

I  want  to  be  an  angel.     Mrs.  Gill.     See  page  150. 

I  would  not  live  alway,  I  ask  not  to  stay. 

Written  by  Rev.  Dr.  William  A.    Muhlenberg.    The  following  is  the  original  hymn. 
as  it  appeared  in  the  "  Episcopal  Recorder,  Philadelphia,  in  1824; 

I  would  not  live  alway — live  aUvay  below!  Where  Hope,  when  she  paints  her  gay  bow 
Oh,  no!    I '11  not  linger  when  bidden  to  go;  in  the  air, 

The  days  of  our  pilgrimage  granted  us  here  Leaves  its  brilliance  to  fade  in  the  night  of 
Are  enough  for  life's  woes,  full  enough  for  despair, 

its  cheer;  And  joy's  fleeting  angel  ne'er  sheds  a  glad 
Would  I  shrink  from  the  paths  which   the  ray, 

prophets  of  God,  Save  the  gleam  of  the  plumage  that  bears 

Apostles  and  martyrs  so  joyfully  tro.l  ?  him  away. 

Like  a  spirit  unblest  o'er  the  earth  wou'd  I     ,  ,,        ^   ,.         ,  ^,        r  ,..       ,  , 

^  I    would  not   live   alwav,  thus  fettered  bv 

roam, 

While  brethren  and  friends  are  all  hasteiiin; 


home  ? 


sm, 
Temptation  without  and  corruption  within; 
In  a  moment  of  strength  if  I  sever  the  chain, 
I  would  not  live  alway;    I  ask  not  to  stay  Scarce  the  victory  is  mine  ere  I  'm  captive 

Where  storm  after  storm  rises  dark  o'er  the  again; 

way;  E'en  the  ra;  ture  of  pardon  is  mingled  with 

Where,  set  king  for  rest,  we  but  hover  around,  fears. 

Like  the  patriarch's  bird,  and  no  resting  is     And  the  cup  of  thanksgiving  with  penitent 
found;  tears; 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  255 

The  festival  trump  calls  for  jubilant  songs,  Where  the  rivers  of  pleasure  flow  o'er  the 
But  my  spirit  her  own  miserere  prolongs.  bright  plains, 

And  the  noontide  of  glory  eternally  reigns; 

I   would  not  live  alway!   no,   welcome   the  Where  the  saints  of  all  ages  in  harmony  meet, 

tomb ;  Their  Saviour  and  brethren  transported  to 
Since  Jesus  hath  lain  there,  I  dread  not  its  greet, 

gloom;  While  the  songs  of  salvation  exultingly  roll, 

Where  He  deigned  to  sleep  I  '11  too  bow  my  And  the  smile  of  the  Lord  is  the  feast  of  the 

head,  soul ? 

All  peaceful  to  slumber  on  that  hallowed  bed. 

Then  the  glorious  daybreak  to  follow  that  That  heavenly  music  !  what  is  it  I  hear? 

j^-  [-,{  The  notes  of  the  harper  ring  sweet  in  mine 

The  orient  gleam  of  the  angels  of  light,  ^'"'  • 

With  their  clarion  call  for  the  sleepers  to     And  see,  soft  unfolding,  those  portals  of  gold, 
j.jgg  The  King,  all  arrayed  in  his  beauty,  behold! 

And  chant  forth  their  matins,  away  to  the    Oh.  si^'e  me.  oh,  give  me  the  wings  of  a 
skies.  dove. 

To  adore   Him,  be  near  Him,  enrapt  with 
Who,  who  would  live  alway,  away  from  his  his  love  ! 

God,  I  but  wait  the  summons,  I  list  for  the  word: 

Away  from  yon  heaven,  that  blissful  abode.      Alleluia  !  Amen  !  evermore  with  the  Lord!' ' 
The  following  is  an  authorized  account  of  the  publication  of  the  poem  in  the  form  of 
a  hymn : 

"In  1S26  the  General  Convention  of  the  Episcopal  Church  appointed  a  commit- 
tee to  prepare  a  collection  of  hymns,  to  be  added  to  the  fifty-six,  then  the  whole 
number  attached  to  the  prayer-bi  ok.  This  measure  was  in  consequence  of  an  awa- 
kened interest  in  hymnology,  brought  about  by  articles  on  '  Church  Poetry,'  and  '  A 
Plea  for  Christia  1  Hymns,'  addressed  to  the  authorities  of  the  church  by  Dr.  Muh- 
lenberg through  the  religious  press.  He  was  chosen  by  the  convention  as  one  of 
the  committee,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  H.  Onderdonk,  the  rector  of  St.  Ann's,  in  Brook- 
lyn, as  another.  The  poem,  '  I  would  not  live  alway,'  Dr.  Onderdonk  abridged 
into  a  hymn  of  suitable  length  for  divine  worship,  and  submitted  to  Dr.  Muhlenberg 
for  revision.  There  were  no  changes  from  the  sentiment  of  the  original  composi- 
tion ;  only  four  lines  in  the  new  differed  from  the  original,  and  those  in  a  few 
words,  a;;  will  be  seen  by  comparison  betweeii  the  two." 

Jerusalem,  my  happy  home.     Anon.     See  page  15S. 

Jerusalem,  the  golden.     Bernard  of  Cluny;  translated  by  J.  M.  Neale. 

From  a  manuscript  of  three  thousand  lines,  entitled  "  De  Contemptu  Mundi.' 

Jesus,  and  shall  it  ever  be.     Joseph  Grigg.     See  page  60. 

Jesus  Christ  is  risen  to-day.     Anon. 

Jesus,  I  my  cross  have  taken.     Henry  Francis  Lyte.     See  page  211. 

Jesus  lives  no  longer  now.     C.  F.  Gellert;  translated  by  Francis  Cox. 

Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul.     See  page  174. 

Two  stories  are  told  of  the  origin  of  this  hymn,  though  neither  of  them  can  now  be 

certified  as  trustworthy: 
John  and  Charles  Wesley,  with  Richard  Pilmore,  according  to  one  account,  were  once 


256  THE  STOR  V  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

holding  a  twilight  meeting,  when  being  attacked  with  great  fury  by  a  mob,  they 
found  a  refuge  in  a  spring-house,  where  they  were  at  last  befriended  by  the  darkness 
of  night.     Here  they  struck  a  light  with  a  flint,  quenched  their  thirst  and  bathed 
their  hands  and  faces  in   the  water  that  flowed  by.     Then  Charles  Wesley  was 
moved  to  write  down  the  feelings  of  the  hour  in  a  hymn.     He  made  use  of  a  bit  of 
lead  which  he  had  hammered  into  a  pencil.     The  hymn  thus  written  was,  "Jesus, 
Lover  of  my  Soul." 
Another  account  says,  that  Charles  Wesley  was  one  day  sitting  by  an  open  window, 
when  his  attention  was  attracted  by  a  little  bird,  pursued  by  a  hawk.     In  its  terror, 
the  bird  sped  towards  the  window,  and  sought  refuge  in  the  poet's  bosom.    The 
thought  came  to  Wesley  that  he  had  a  refuge  in  the  bosom  of  Christ  when  pursued 
by  temptation  and  persecution;   and,  under  the  influence  of  the  feeling  excited  by 
the  incident,  he  wrote  tie  hymn. 
Jesus,  meek  and  gentle.     George  Pvundle  Trynne,  1856. 
Jesus,  my  all,  to  heaven  is  gone.     John  Cennick.     See  page  54. 
Jesus,  pro  me  perforatus.     Gladstone.     See  page  28. 
Jesus  shall  reign  where'er  the  sun.     Isaac  Watts,  17 19.     See  page  223. 
Jesus,  tender  Shepherd,  hear  me.     Mary  L.  Duncan,  1814-1841. 

Written  as  an  evening  prayer  for  her  own  children. 
Jesus,  the  very  thought  of  Thee.      Bernard  ;  translated  by  G.  E.  Caswell 

Wesley  calls  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,  "The  best  monk  that  ever  lived.'' 
Jesus,  Thy  blood  and  righteousness.      Count  Zinzendorf;  translated  by 

John  Wesley.     See  page  99. 
Joy  to  the  world  !  the  Lord  is  come.     Isaac  Watts. 
Just  as  I  am,  without  one  plea.     Charlotte  Elliott.     See  page  155. 
Knocking,  knocking,  ever  knocking.     Mrs.  II.  E.  B.  Stowe. 

The  original  poem  is  somewhat  different  from  the  Sunday-school  hymn.     It  was  first 
published  in  the  Christian  Watchman  a7id  Reflector. 

Knocking,  knocking,  ever  knocking;  And  those  eyes  so  strange  and  tender 

Who  is  there  ?  Waiting  there: 

'Tis  a  Pilgrim,  strange  and  kingly,  Open,  open,  once  behold  Him — 

Never  such  was  seen  before;  Him  so  fair. 

Ah,  sweet  soul,  for  such  a  Wonder,  ii/-iu    .1    .  j        1      u       -i.  .u 

'  '  -11  Qy,^  (i,-^{  ^QQf  1  ^^.jiy  ^^,,]f  x\\o\x  vex  me, 

Undo  the  door.  r       ■  .  1  3 

Comnig  ever  to  perplex  me  r 

"  No,  the  door  is  hard  to  open.  For  the  key  is  stiff  and  rusty, 

Hinges  rusty,  latch  is  broken ;  And  the  bolt  is  clogged  and  dusty; 

Bid  Him  go.  Many-fingered  ivy  vine 

Wherefore  with  that  knocking  dreary  Seals  it  fast  with  twist  and  twine; 

Scare  the  sleep  from  one  so  weary  ?  Weeds  of  years  and  years  before 

Say  him,  No."  Choke  the  passage  to  that  door. 

Knocking,  knocking,  ever  knocking.  "  Knocking,  knocking!    What,  still  knocking? 

What,  still  there  ?  He  still  there  ? 

O  sweet  soul,  but  once  bahold  Him,  What's  the  hour  ?     The  night  is  waning. 

With  the  glory-crowned  hair.  In  my  heart  a  drear  complaining, 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  257 

And  a  sad  unrest  !  Did  she  open  ?     Do^h  she  ?     Will  she  ? 

Ah,  this  knocking.     It  disturbs  me —  So,  as  wondering  we  behold, 

Scares  my  sleep  with  dreams  unblest.  Grows  the  picture  to  a  sign, 

Rest— ah  !  rest.  Pressed  upon  your  soul  and  mine  ; 

For,  in  every  breast  that  liveth 
Rest,  dear  soul,  he  longs  to  give  thee;  Is  that  strange,  mysterious  door: 
Tliou  hast  only  dreamed  of  pleasure—  Though  forsaken  and  betangled, 
Dreamed  tf  gifts  and  golden  treasure—  Folly-gnarled  and  weed-bejangled, 
Dreamed  of  jewels  in  thy  keeping,  Dusty,  rusty,  and  forgotten  ; 
Waked  to  weariness  and  weeping ;  There  the  pierced  hand  still  knocketh, 
Open  to  thy  soul's  one  Lover,  And  with  ever-patient  watching. 
And  thy  night  of  dreams  is  over.  With  the  sad  eyes  true  and  tender. 
The  true  gits  He  brings,  have  seeming  With  the  glory-crowned  hair- 
More  than  all  thy  faded  dreaming.  Still  a  God  is  waiting  there. 

Land  ahead  !  its  fruits  are  waving.     See  page  166. 

Lead,  kindly  Liglit,  amid  the  encircling  gloom.      John  Henry  Newman. 
See  page  215. 
"  I  was  aching  to  get  home ;  yet  for  want  of  a  vessel,  was  kept  at  Palermo  for  three 
weeks.     At  last  I  got  off  on  an  orange-boat  bound  for  Marseilles.     We  were  be- 
calmed a  whole  week  in  the  Straits  of  Bonifacio.    There  it  was  that  I  wrote  the  lines 
'  Lead,  kindly  Light,'  which  have  become  well  known."  Newman. 

Let  all  men  rejoice,  by  Jesus  restored.     C.  Wesley.     See  page  225. 
Light  of  those  whose  dreary  dwelling.     Charles  Wesley,  1745. 
'Listed  in  the  cause  of  sin.     Charles  Weslej'.     See  page  175. 
Little  travellers  Zionward.     Edmeston.     See  page  165. 
Lo!  He  comes,  with  clouds  descending.     C.  Wesley  and  F.  Cennick. 
Lo !  on  a  narrow  neck  of  land.     C.  Wesley.     See  pao-e  226. 
Lord,  dismiss  us  with  thy  blessing.     Walter  Shirley.     See  page  223, 
Lord,  how  secure  and  blest  are  they.     Watts. 
Lord,  in  the  morning  Thou  shalt  hear.     Isaac  Watts,  17 19. 
Lord  of  the  Sabbath,  hear  our  vows.     Doddridge.     See  page  34. 
Love  divine,  all  love  excelling.     Charles  Wesley,  1746. 
Mercy,  O  thou  Son  of  David.     Newton. 

Mighty  God,  while  angels  bless  thee.     Robinson.     See  page  43. 
Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone  ? 

First  appeared  in  the  Plymouth  Collection,  1855.     Written  by  G.  N.  Allen. 
My  country,  't  is  of  thee. 

Written  by  Rev.  S.  F.  Smith,  D.  D.,  in  1831-32,  and  first  sung  in  public  in  P.ark  street 
church,  Boston,  on  the  occasion  of  a  children's  celebration  of  Julv  4,  1S31  or  i«32 

22* 


258  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Dr.  Smith,  a   Baptist  clergyman  and   editor,  contributed  twenty-six  hymns  to  the 
Psalmist,  and  eight  hymns  to  the  American  Sabbath  Hymn-Book. 

My  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord.      Julia  Ward 

Howe. 

Written  after  a  visit  to  the  camps  on  the  Potomac  during  the  early  part  of  the  Union 
war,  and  published  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 

My  faith  looks  up  to  Thee.     Ray  Palmer,  1S33.     See  page  209. 

My  God,  my  Father,  while  I  stray.     Charlotte  Elliott.     See  page  200. 

My  God,  I  love  Thee,  not  because.     St.  Francis  Xavier ;  translated  by 

G.  E.  Caswell.     See  page  71. 
My  God,  permit  me  not  to  be.     Isaac  Watts,  1709. 
My  God,  the  spring  of  all  my  joys.     Watts.     See  page  224. 
My  gracious  Redeemer  I  love.     Benjamin  Francis. 

Mr.  Francis  was  a  Baptist  minister,  (1734-1799).  He  joined  the  church  at  the  age  of 
fifteen ;  he  preached  to  a  liumble  congregation,  refusing  a  pastorate  offered  him  in 
London. 

My  hope  is  built  on  nothing  less. 

By  Edward  Mote,  an  English  Baptist  minister;  born,  1797. 

My  opening  eyes  with  rapture  see.     F.  Hutton. 

My  Saviour,  my  Almighty  Friend.     Watts. 

My  soul,  be  on  thy  guard.     George  Heath,  178 1. 

Nearer,  my  God,  to  Thee.     Sarah  Flower  Adams.     See  page  201. 

No  war  nor  battle  sound.     Milton. 

Written  in  his  twenty-first  year.     The  original  has  thirty-one  stanzas. 

Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep.     See  page  14S. 

"Now  I  lay" — repeat  it,  darling.     Lutheran  Monthly.     See  page  149. 

Now  is  the  accepted  time.     John  Dobell. 

This  and  other  hymns  by  the  same  author,  were  published  at  the  suggestion  of  a  pious 
lady  in  Cornwall,  who  was  an  invalid,  and  whom  Dobell  frequently  visited  in  sick- 
ness. She  said  to  him,  "  I  wish  I  could  see  before  I  die  a  hymn-book  full  of  Christ 
and  his  gospel,  without  any  mixture  of  human  merit."  It  became  the  aim  of  Dobell 
to  compose  and  compile  such  a  book. 

O  bliss  of  the  purified,  bliss  of  the  free.     Rev.  F.  Bottome. 

O  Day  of  rest  and  gladness.     Christopher  Wordsworth,  1S62. 

O  Deus,  ego  amo  Te.     Francis  Zavier.     See  page  71. 

O'er  the  gloomy  hills  of  darkness.     William  Williams.     See  page  31. 


FAMILIAR  HYAINS. 


259 


Oft  in  danger,  oft  in  woe.     F.  F.  Maitland  and  H.  K.  White. 

The  first  ten  lines  of  this  hymn  were  left  a  fragment  by  Kirke  White,  written  on  the 
back  of  one  of  his  mathematical  papers.  They  came,  after  his  death,  into  the  hands 
of  Dr.  CoUyer,  who  published  them,  with  six  not  very  successful  Imes  of  his  own 
added,  in  his  Hymn-book  of  i8i2,  where  the  hymn  is  numbered  867.  The  task  of 
finishing  it  was  more  happily  accomplished  by  Miss  F.  F.  Maitland. 

O  God,  our  help  in  ages  past.     Isaac  Watts. 

O  happy  day,  that  stays  my  choice.     Philip  Doddridge. 

CJ  happy  saints,  who  dwell  in  light. 

Wri.ten   by  Rev.    John    Berridj;e.      His   epitaph,   composed   by   himself,  is  a  brief 

memoir: 
"  Here  lie  the  earthly  remains  of  John  Berridge,  late  vicar  of  Everton,and  an  itinerant 

servant  of  Jesus  Christ,  who  loved  his  Master  and  His  work,  and  after  running  His 

errands  many  years,  was  called  up  to  wait  on  Him  above. 
"  Reader,  art  thou  bom  again  ? 
"  No  salvation  without  the  new  birth. 
"  I  was  bom  in  sin,  February,  1716. 
"Remained  ignorant  of  my  fallen  state  till  1730. 
"  Lived  proudly  on  faith  and  works  for  salvation  till  1751. 
"Admitted  to  Everton  vicarage,  1755. 
"  Fled  to  Jesus  alone  for  refuge,  1756. 
"  Fell  asleep  in  Jesus  Christ,  — "     (1793.) 

Oh  come,  ail  ye  faithful.     Translated  by  Frederic  Oakeley.    Mediaeval. 
Oh  come,  oh  come,  Emmanuel.     Mediaeval.     Translated  by  J.  M.  Neale. 
Oh,  could  I  speak  the  matchless  worth,     Samuel  Medley. 

The  early  life  of  Medley  was  very  irreligious.  Being  forgiven  much,  he  loved  much; 
and  this  is  the  sentiment  of  the  hymn. 

Oh,  for  a  closer  walk  with  God.     William  Cowper,  1779. 

Oh,  for  a  heart  to  praise  my  God.     Charles  Wesley,  1742. 

Oh,  for  a  thousand  tongues,  to  sing.  Charles  Wesley,  1739.  See  page  225. 

Oh,  for  the  happy  hour. 

Written  by  Rev.  G.  W.  Bethune,  while  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  his  congregation, 
during  a  special  effort  to  awaken  a  religious  interest. 

Oh,  happy  is  the  man  who  hears.     Michael  Bruce. 
Oh,  how  happy  are  they,     Charles  Wesley. 

Oh,  mother  dear,  Jerusalem.     F.  B.  T.     See  page  156, 

Translated  by  an  unknovsn  writer  in  the  i6th  century,  and  published  from  manuscript 
by  Sir  Roundell  Palmer,  in  his  "  Book  of  Praise." 

Oh,  sing  to  me  of  heaven,     Mrs,  M,  S,  B.  Dana. 

Oh,  that  my  load  of  sin  were  gone.     Charles  Weslev, 


26o  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Oh,  the  blood,  the  precious  blood  ! 

By  Rev.  G.  H.  Stockton,  a  Methodist  minister.     Written.  1871. 
Oh,  where  shall  rest  be  found  ?    James  Montgomery.     See  page  230. 
Once  in  royal  David's  city.     Cecil  Francis  Alexander,  184S. 

"Hymns  for  Little  Children." 

One  sweetly  solemn  thought.     Phoebe  Gary.     See  page  206. 

One  there  is  above  all  others,     Newton. 

On  Jordan's  bank  the  Baptist's  cry,     Paris  Breviary ;  translated  by  John 

Chandler. 

On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand. 

By  Rev.  Samuel  Stennett,  an  English  Baptist  minister;  born,  1727;  died,  1795. 

On  the  mountain-top  appearing.     Kelly.     See  page  137. 

Onward,  Christian  soldiers.     Sabine  Baring  Gould. 

O  Paradise!  O  Paradise!     Frederick  William  Faber.     See  page  1S9. 

Oppressed  with  sin  and  woe.     Anne  Bronte. 

She  was  the  youngest  of  three  gifted  sisters,  whose  home-life  is  known  through  the 
memories  of  Charlotte  Bronte.  She  died  young.  She  said  in  her  last  sickness,  "  I 
wish  it  would  please  God  to  spare  me,  because  I  long  to  do  something  good  in  the 
world  before  I  leave  it."  Later  in  her  sickness,  she  said,  "  It  will  be  well  through 
the  merits  of  the  Redeemer." 

O  Thou,  by  long  experience  tried.     Madame  Guyon.     See  page  244. 
O  Thou  from  whom  all  goodness  flows.     Thomas  Haweis,  1792. 

Mr.  Haweis  was  one  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  chaplains,  and  one  of  the  founders  of  the 

London  Missionary  Society.     He  wrote  256  hymns,  which  he  published  under  the 

title  ot  "  Carmina  Christo." 

O  Thou,  my  scul,  forget  no  more.     Krishnu-Pal.    See  page  52. 

O  Thou  to  whom  all  creatures  bow.     Tate  and  Brady. 

O  Thou  to  whose  all-searching  sight.     Tersteegen ;  translated  by  John 

Wesley. 
O  turn  ye,  O  turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye  die. 

Attributed  to  Samson  Occom,  the  Indian  preacher. 
Our  blest  Redeemer,  ere  he  breathed.     Harriet  Auber,  1829. 

Miss  Auber  led  a  secluded  life,  often  expressing  her  religious  thoughts  in  poems,  only 
a  few  of  which  were  published. 

Our  God,  our  help  in  ages  past.     Watts.     See  page  222. 
Parted  many  a  toil-spent  year.     See  page  183. 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  261 

Peace,  troubled  soul.     Shirley.     See  page  126. 

People  of  the  living  God.     James  Montgomery.     See  page  2:9. 

Poor  and  afflicted,  Lord,  are  thine.     Kelly.     See  page  136. 

Praise  God,  from  whom  all  blessings  flow.     Ken.     Sec  page  17. 

Prayer  is  appointed  to  convey.     Hart. 

Prayer  is  the  soul's  sincere  desire.     James  Montgomery. 

Quietly  rest  the  woods  and  dales.     Gerhardt.     See  page  85. 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings.     Robert  Seagrave,  174c. 
Mr.  Seagrave  was  a  Calvinist  Methodist  in  Lady  Huntingdon's  connection. 

Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me.    Augustus  Montague  Toplady.    See  page  24. 

Salvation!  O  the  joyful  sound.     Isaac  Watts. 

Saviour,  like  a  Shepherd  lead  us.     Anon. 

Saviour,  when  in  dust  to  thee.     Grant. 

See  how  great  a  flame  inspires.     Charles  Wesley.     See  page  226. 

Shepherd  of  tender  youth.     Anon.     See  page  145. 

Shout  the  glad  tidings,  e.xultingly  sing.    W.  A.  Muhlenberg.     1826. 

Show  pity,  Lord,  O  Lord,  forgive.     Watts.     See  page  224. 

Shrinking  from  the  cold  hand  of  death.     Charles  Wes'ey. 

Shrinking  from  the  cold  hand  of  death.  Oh  that,  without  a  lingering  groan, 

I  soon  shall  gather  up  my  feet;  I  may  the  welcome  word  receive; 

Shall  soon  resign  this  fleeting  breath.  My  body  with  my  charge  lay  down, 

And  die — my  fathers'  God  to  meet.  And  cease  at  once  to  work  and  live. 

Numbered  among  thy  people,  I  Walk  with  me  through  the  dre.^dful  shade, 

Expect  with  joy  thy  face  to  see  :  And,  certified  that  thou  art  mine. 

Because  thou  didst  for  sinners  die,  My  spirit  calm  and  undismayed 

Jesus,  in  death  remember  me !  I  shall  into  thy  hands  resign. 

No  anxious  doubt,  no  gxiilty  gloom. 

Shall  damp  whom  Jesus'  presence  cheers; 
My  Light,  my  Life,  my  God  is  come. 
And  glory  in  his  face  appears. 

The  third  stanza  of  this  beautiful  funeral  hymn  was  an  expression  of  Charles  Wesley's 
feelings  in  regard  to  death.  John  Wesley  frequently  quoted  the  stanza  in  old  age. 
His  almost  constant  prayer  was,  "  Lord,  let  me  not  live  to  be  useless."  "At  every 
place,"  says  Belcher,  "after  giving  to  his  societies  what  he  desired  them  to  consider 
his  last  advice,  he  invariably  concluded  with  the  stanza  beginning — 
"  '  Oh  that,  without  a  lingering  groan, 
I  may  the  welcome  word  receive.'  " 

Sinners,  turn,  why  will  ye  die  ?     Charles  Wesley. 


262  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYiMNS. 

Softly  now  the  light  of  day.     George  Washington  Doane,  1824. 
"  Songs  by  the  Way." 

Speed  our  republic,  O  Father  on  high  ^ 

M.  Keller,  the  author  of  Keller's  American  hymn,  is  an  adopted  citizen  of  the  United 
States.  During  the  war  for  the  Union  a  prize  was  offered  for  a  national  hymn,  and 
he  felt  a  strong  desire  to  produce  such  a  composition  for  his  adopted  country.  It 
was  first  sung  in  New  York,  but  awakened  no  interest.  Mr.  Keller  went  to  Boston, 
gave  his  hymn  to  the  bands  to  play,  and  it  soon  became  a  favorite  in  that  city,  and 
was  sung  on  all  pAtriotic  occasions  where  a  large  chorus  was  employed.  It  was  sung 
at  the  Peace  Jubilee,  at  the  reception  of  the  battle  flags  at  the  Statehouse,  by  the 
request  of  Gov.  Andrew,  and  by  an  adopted  custom  is  the  first  piece  played  on  the 
Common  by  bands  on  Independence  days. 

Stand  up  for  Jesus.     Duffield.     Seepage  152. 

Stand  up,  my  soul,  shake  off  thy  fears.     Isaac  Watts. 

Stay,  thou  long-suffering  .Spirit,  stay.     Charles  Wesley. 

Sun  of  my  soul,  thoti  Saviour  dear.     John  Keble.     See  page  190 

Sweet  hour  of  prayer,  sweet  hour  of  prayer. 

This  hymn  was  written  by  Rev.  Mr.  Walford,  an  English  blind  preacher,  and  was 
given  to  the  public  in  1849.  One  of  the  stanzas  of  the  original  poem  is  usually 
omitted  in  American  collections  of  hymns  : 

"  Sweet  hour  of  prayer,  sweet  hour  of  prayer. 
The  joy  I  feel,  the  bliss  I  share. 
Of  those  whose  anxious  spirits  bum 
With  strong  desire  for  thy  return ; 
With  such  I  hasten  to  the  place 
Where  God,  my  Saviour,  shows  his  face. 
And  gladly  take  my  station  there. 
To  wait  for  thee,  sweet  hour  of  prayer." 

Sweet  is  the  work,  my  God,  my  King.     Isaac  Watts. 

Sweet  the  moments,  rich  in  blessing.     James  Allen  and  Walter  Shirley. 

See  page  127. 
Take  the  name  of  Jesus  with  you.     Mrs.  Lydia  A.  Ba.xter. 

Te  Deum  Laudamus. 

The  authorship  of  this  very  ancient  hymn  is  commonly  ascribed  to  St.  Ambrose,  who 
w^s  born  in  Gaul  about  the  year  340,  and  who  was  chosen  Bishop  of  Milan  in  the 
year  374.  To  him  is  attributed  the  introduction  of  singing  antiphonnl  or  responsive 
psalms  into  the  Western  church.  In  reply  to  one  who  charged  him  with  unduly 
influencing  the  minds  of  the  people  by  the  singing  of  hymns,  he  said:  "  A  grand  thing 
is  that  singing,  and  nothing  can  stand  before  it.  For  what  can  be  more  telling  than 
that  confession  of  the  Trinity  which  a  whole  population  utters,  day  by  day  ?  For  all 
are  eager  to  proclaim  their  faith,  and  in  measured  strains  have  learned  to  confess 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost." 

The  Benedictine  authors  attribute  to  Ambrose  twelve  hymns.    St.  Augustine  thus 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  263 

speaks  of  the  effect  produced  upon  him  by  the  singing  of  the  hj-mns  of  Ambrose  in 
the  church  of  Milan:  "  How  did  I  weep,  O  Lord  !  through  thy  hymns  and  canticles, 
touched  to  the  quick  by  the  voices  of  thy  sweet-attuned  church  !  The  voices  sank 
into  mine  ears,  and  the  truths  distilled  into  my  heart,  whence  the  affections  of  my 
devotions  overflowed  ;  tears  ran  down,  and  I  rejoiced  in  them." 

The  following  is  the  English  version  of  the  hymn  as  it  appears  in  the  authorized  book 
of  Common  Prayer: 

We  praise  thee,  O  God,  we  acknowledge  thee  to  be  the  Lord. 

All  the  earth  doth  worship  thee,  the  Father  everlasting. 

To  thee  all  angels  cry  aloud,  the  heavens,  and  all  the  powers  therein. 

To  thee  cherubim  and  seraphim  continually  do  cry, 

Holy,  Holy,  Holy,  Lord,  God  of  Sabaoth; 

Heaven  and  earth  are  full  of  the  majesty  of  thy  glory. 

The  glorious  company  of  the  apostles  praise  thee. 

The  goodly  fellowship  of  the  prophets  praise  thee. 

The  noble  army  of  martyrs  praise  thee. 

The  holy  church  throughout  all  the  world  doth  acknowledge  thee, 

The  Father,  of  an  infinite  majesty  ; 

Thine  adorable,  true,  and  only  Son  ; 

Also  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Comforter. 

Thou  art  the  King  of  Glory,  O  Christ ; 

Thou  art  the  everlasting  Son  of  the  Father. 

When  thou  tookest  upon  thee  to  deliver  man,  thou  didst  humble  thyself  to  be  bom  of 
a  virgm ; 

When  thou  hadst  overcome  the  sharpness  of  death,  thou  didst  open  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  to  all  believers. 

Thou  sittest  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  in  the  glory  of  the  Father. 

We  believe  that  thou  shah  come  to  be  our  Judge. 

We  therefore  pray  thee,  help  thy  servants,  whom  thou  hast  redeemed  with  thy  pre- 
cious blood. 

Make  them  to  be  numbered  with  thy  saints  in  glory  everlasting. 

O  Lord,  save  thy  people,  and  bless  thine  heritage. 

Govern  them,  and  lift  them  up  for  ever. 

Day  by  day  we  magnify  thee ; 

And  vv'e  worship  thy  name  ever,  world  without  end. 

Vouchsafe,  O  Lord,  to  keep  us  this  day  without  sin. 

O  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  us  :  have  mercy  upon  us. 

O  Lord,  let  thy  mercy  be  upon  us,  as  our  trust  is  in  thee. 
O  Lord,  in  thee  have  I  trusted  ;  let  me  never  be  confounded. 

Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand. 

This  spirited  hymn  was  written  by  Dean  Henry  Alford,  widely  known  for  his  learned 
commentary,  entitled  '■  The  Greek  Testament  with  Notes."  His  first  religious  work 
was  written  at  the  age  of  ten,  and  was  entitled  "  Looking  unto  Jesus."  In  his  six- 
teenth year  he  formally  dedicated  himself  wholly  to  the  service  of  God,  writing  in  his 
Bible  this  resolution  :  "  I  do  this  day,  as  in  the  presence  of  God  and  my  own  soul, 
renew  my  covenant  with  God,  and  solemnly  determine  henceforth  to  become  his,  and 
to  do  his  work  as  far  as  in  me  lies." 

In  1S67  he  issued  a  collection  of  hymns,  of  which  fifty-five  were  of  his  own  compo- 
sition. 


264  2'HE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand,  Oh  day  for  which  creation 
In  sparkling  raiment  bright,  And  all  its  tribes  were  made  1 

The  armies  of  the  ransomed  saints  Oh  joy  for  all  its  former  woes 
Throng  up  the  steeps  of  light;  A  thousand-fold  repaid  ! 

'T  is  finished,  alUs  finished,  /^u  .u         1    .        .       j 

„,..'.,,      ,        '     .  Oh  then  what  raptured  greeting 

The.r  fight  with  death  and  sin ;  q^  Canaan's  happy  shore, 

Fling  open  wide  the  golden  gates,  ^,^^j  Vx^M\x^z  severed  friendships  up 

And  let  the  victors  in.  ^^^^^  partings  are  no  more  ! 

What  rush  of  hallelujahs  Then  eyes  with  joy  shall  sparkle 

Fills  all  the  earth  and  sky;  That  brimmed  with  tears  of  late, 

What  ringing  of  a  thousand  harps  Orphans  no  longer  fatherless, 

Bespeaks  the  triumph  nigh;  Nor  w  dows  desolate. 

This  hymn  was  sung  at  his  own  funeral  service.      On  his  tombstone  was  inscribed  an 
impressive  and  beautiful  line  which  he  had  written  for  the  purpose  : 
"  The  Inn  of  a  Traveller  on  his  Way  to  Jerusalem." 

That  Day  of  wrath,  that  dreadful  day  !     Walter  Scott,  1805. 

"  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel."  It  was  translated  from  the  "  Dies  ira;,  Dies  ilia."  Scott 
repeated  a  part  of  the  Latin  original  on  his  death-bed.     See  page  248. 

The  chariot!  the  chariot!  its  wheels  roll  in  fire.     Milman. 

Dean  Milman,  a  son  of  Sir  Francis  Milman,  physician  to  George  III,  was  born  in 
1791,  and  was  educated  at  Oxford.  In  182 1  he  was  installed  as  University  Professor 
of  Poetry  at  Oxford,  and  it  was  while  filling  this  position  that  he  wrote  this  celebra- 
ted hymn,  under  the  title  of  "  The  Last  Day." 

The  day  is  past  and  gone.     John  Leland.     See  page  86. 

"  Elder"   Leland  was  an  eccentric  Baptist  minister,  born   in  Grafton,  Mass.,    1754. 

Two  verses  from  Watts,  beginning,  "And  if  we  early  rise,"  and  "And  when  our 

days  are  past,"  are  often  added  to  this  hymn  in  singing. 
The  God  of  Abram  praise.     Thomas  Olivers.     See  page  234. 

The  heavens  declare  thy  glory.  Lord.     Isaac  Watts. 

The  King  of  glory  we  proclaim.     James  Montgomery.     See  page  231. 

The  Lord  descended  from  above.     Thomas  Sternhold. 

Scaliger  declared  that  he  wo  Id  rather  be  the  author  of  the  second  stanza  of  this  hymn 
than  of  all  the  works  he  had  written. 

The  Lord  my  pasture  shall  prepare.     Joseph  Addison. 

The  sands  of  time  are  sinking.     See  page  93. 

The  spacious  firmament  on  high.     Joseph  Addison. 

The  Spirit  in  our  hearts.     Henry  Ustick  Onderdonk. 

The  voice  of  free  grace.     Richard  Bundsall.     1735-1S24. 

The  world  can  neither  give  nor  take.     Lady  Huntingdon.    See  page  102. 

There  is  a  happy  land.     Young.     See  page  146. 


FAMILIAR  HYMNS.  265 

There  is  a  fountain  filled  with  blood.     William  Cowper. 
There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight.     Isaac  Watts.     See  page  221. 
There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest.     William  B.  Tappan. 

An  assiduous  Christian  worker  o£  Boston,  long  connected  with  the  American  Sunday- 
School  Union. 

There  is  an  hour  when  I  must  part. 

This  hymn  was  written  in  Switzerland  by  Rev.  Andrew  Reed,  an  English  Congrega- 
tionalist  minister.  He  said  of  it  in  his  last  days,  "  I  wrote  it  at  Geneva.  It  has 
brought  comfort  to  many,  and  now  it  brings  comfort  to  me." 

Thine  earthly  Sabbaths,  Lord,  we  love.     Doddridge.     See  page  34. 

Thou  art  gone  to  the  grave,  but  we  will  not  deplore  thee.    Bishop  Heber. 
This  hymn  was  written  on  the  death  of  his  brother. 

Thou  dear  Redeemer,  dying  Lamb.     Cennick.     See  page  56. 

Thou  hidden  love  of  God,  whose  height.  Gerhard  Tersteegen  ;  trans- 
lated by  F.  Wesley.     See  page  162. 

Thou  shalt  rise,  my  dust,  thou  shalt  rise.     Klopstock.     See  page  91. 

Thou  whose  almighty  word.     John  Marriott,  1S13. 

Though  nature's  strength  decay.     James  Montgomery.     See  page  236. 

Thus  far  the  Lord  hath  led  me  on.     Watts. 

'Tis  finished;  so  the  Saviour  cried.     Samuel  Stennett,  1787. 

'T  is  my  happiness  below.     William  Cowper. 

'Tis  religion  that  can  give.     Mary  Masters.     See  page  152. 

To  Jesus,  the  crown  of  my  hope.     Cowper.     See  page  48. 

To  leave  my  dear  friends  and  with  neighbors  to  part.     See  page  49. 

Unveil  thy  bosom,  faithful  tomb.     Watts. 

Up  to  the  hills  I  lift  mine  eyes.     Isaac  Watts. 

Veni,  Sancte  Spiritus.     Robert  II.     .See  page  68. 

Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame.     Pope.     See  page  62. 

Watchman,  tell  us  of  the  night.     John  Bowring.     See  page  128. 

Welcome,  sweet  day  of  rest.     Isaac  Watts. 

SVe  praise  Thee,  O  God  ;  we  acknowledge  Thee  to  be  the  Lord.  See  page 
262. 

Stoi  jr  of  the  HjTunt.  23 


2  66  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

This  is  among  the  earliest  ad  grandest  tones  in  the  Christian  church,  having  proba- 
bly been  composed  in  the  fourth  century.  It  is  the  work  of  the  Latin  fathers,  and 
is  especially  inscribed  to  Augustine  and  Ambrose.  It  appears  in  various  forms  in 
most  ancient  and  modern  collections,  and  is  commonly  known  as  the  "  Te  Deum 
Laudanuis." 

We  speak  of  the  realms  of  the  blest.     Mrs.  Mills.     See  page  14S. 

What  arc  these  in  bright  array  ?     James  Montgomery. 

What  shall  a  dying  sinner  do?     Watts.     See  page  223. 

When  all  thy  mercies,  O  my  God.     Joseph  Addison.     See  page  50. 

When  gathering  clouds  aroimd  I  view.     Robert  Grant. 

When  I  can  read  my  title  clear.     Isaac  Watts.     See  page  222. 

When  I  survey  the  wondrous  cross.     Isaac  Watts.     See  page  221. 

When  languor  and  disease  invade.     Toplady.     See  page  27. 

When,  marshalled  on  the  nightly  plain.  Henry  Kirke  White.  See  page  132. 

When  shall  we  meet  again?     Alaric  A.  Watts. 
Written  in  youth,  on  parting  from  friends. 

When  shall  we  three  meet  again?     See  page  1S2. 

When  through  the  torn  sail  the  wild  tempest  is  streaming.     Reginald 

lieber.     See  page  175. 
When  thou,  iny  righteous  Judge,  shalt  come.     Lady  Huntingdon.     See 

page  104. 
While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night.     Nahum  Tate. 
While  Thee  I  seek.  Protecting  Power.    Helen  Maria  Williams.    See  page 

129. 
While  with  ceaseless  course  the  sun.     John  Newton.     See  page  134- 
Why  do  we  mourn  departing  friends  ?     Watts. 
Why  should  the  children  of  a  King.     Watts. 
With  one  consent  let  all  the  earth.     Tate  and  Brady. 
Ye  boundless  realms  of  jby.     Tate  and  Brady. 

Ye  choirs  of  New  Jerusalem.     St.  Fulbert.     See  page  69. 

St.  Fulbert  was  one  of  th-  spiritual  advisers  of  King  Canute. 
Ye  virgin  souls,  arise.     Charles  Wesley.     See  page  108. 


X.    HYMN-WRITERS 

AND  THEIR  HYMNS, 

WITH  THE  PAGES  OF  THIS  WORK,  WHERE  ANY  OF  THEM  ARE 
REFERRED  TO. 


Abelard,  Peter.     1079-1142. 

For  the  fount  of  life  eternal. 
Ad  perennis  vit.ie  fontem. 

Adam  of  S.  Victor.     Died  1192. 

The  chi\rch  on  earth  with  answering  love. 
Superns  niatris  gaudia. 

Adams,  Jolin.      1751-1S35.     Of  Northampton,  England. 
Jesus  is  our  great  salvation. 

Adams,  John  Quincy.     1 767-1848. 

How  swift,  alas  !  our  moments  fly. 

Adams,  Sarah  Flower.     1S05-1S49.     See  page  201. 
Addiscott,  Henry.     i8o6-iS6o. 

And  is  there,  Lord,  a  cross  for  me  ? 
Addison,  Joseph.     1672-1719.     See  pages  50,  98. 

Alberti,  Henry.     1604-1668. 

God  who  madest  earth  and  heaven. 
Gott  des  Himmels  and  des  Erden. 

Alexander,  Cecil  P'rances.     Born  1823. 

On  Nebo's  lofty  mountain. 
The  roseate  hues  of  early  dawn. 

Alexander,  Dr.  William  Lindsay.     1808. 

From  distant  corners  of  our  land. 

Alford,  Dean  Henry.     i8ro-i87i.     See  page  263. 
Ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand. 
Allen,  James.     !734-iSo4.     See  Shirley,  page  127. 


268  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Allen,  G.  N. 

Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone  ? 
Alien,  Oswald.     iSi6. 

To-day  thy  mercy  calls  me. 

Allendoif,  John  L.  C.     1693-1773. 

Now  rests  her  soul  in  Jesus'  arms. 
Die  Seele  ruht  in  Jesu  Armen. 

Altenbiirg,  See  page  70. 

Fear  not,  O  little  flock,  the  foe. 
Ambrose.     340-397. 

O  Jesus,  Lord  of  light  and  grace. 

Splendor  paternae  gloriae. 

Anatolius,  Saint.     Died  458.     See  page  173. 

Andrew,  Saint  (of  Crete).     660-732. 

Oh,  the  mystery  passing  wonder. 

Angelas,  Silesius.     1624-1677. 

Oh  Love,  who  formedst  me  to  wear. 
'  Liebe,  die  du  mich  zum  Bilde. 

Anselm,  Saint  (of  Lucca).     Died  10S6. 

Jesus,  solace  of  my  soul. 
Jesu  mi  dulcissime. 

Anstice,  Professor  Joseph.     1S08-1836. 

In  all  things  like  thy  brethren  Thou. 

Apelles  von  Lowenstern.     1594-1648. 

O  Christ  !   the  Leader  of  that  war-worn  host. 
Christe,  du  Beistand  deiner  Kreuzgemeine. 

Aquinas,  St.  Thomas.     1 227-1 274. 

Now,  my  tongue,  the  mystery  telling. 

Anber,  Harriet.     1773-1862. 

Our  blest  Redeemer,  ere  he  breathed. 

Austin,  John.     Died  1669. 

Blest  be  thy  love,  dear  Lord. 

Aveling,  Thomas  \V,     1S15. 

On  !  towards  Zion,  on  I 
Bache,  Mrs.     1744-1S08. 

See  how  He  loved. 
Bacon,  Leonard.     1802. 

Wake  the  song  of  jubileel 
Bahnmaier,  J.  F.     1774-1841. 


.  HYMN  WRITERS.  269 

Baker,  II.  W.     1S21. 

Oh,  what,  if  we  are  Christ's. 

Bakewell,  John.     1721-1819. 

Hail !  thou  once-despised  Jesus. 

Baldwin,  Thomas.      1753-1S25. 

Come,  happy  souls,  adore  the  Lamb. 

Balfour,  Alex.     1 767-1829. 

Go,  messengers  of  pea?e  and  love. 

Bancroft,  C.  L.     Ireland. 

Oh,  for  the  robes  of  whiteness. 

Barbauld,  Anna  Letitia.     1744-1S25. 

Praise  to  God,  immortal  praise. 
^^ 
Baring-Gould,  Sabine.     See  page  154. 

Onward,  Christian  soldiers. 

Barton,  Bernard.     17S4-1S49. 

Lamp  of  our  feet,  whereby  we  trace. 

Bateman,  Henry.      iSoo. 

Let  us  with  a  cheerful  voice. 
Bathurst,  W.  II.     1796. 

Oh,  for  a  faith  that  will  not  shrink. 
Ba.xter,  Lydia.     1S09-1874. 

There  is  a  gate  that  stands  ajar. 
Ba.xter,  Richard.     1615-1691. 

Lord,  it  belongs  not  to  my  care. 
Bede.     672-735. 
Beddome,  B.     1717-1795.     See  page  13S. 

Did  Christ  o'er  sinners  weep  ? 
r.cecher,  Charles.     1S19. 

W'e  are  on  our  journey  home. 

Benedictis,  J.  De.     Died  1306. 

At  the  cross  her  station  keeping. 

Stabat  mater  dolorosa. 
Bennet,  S.  F. 

Thre  's  a  land  that  is  fairer  than  day 

Bernard,  St.     1091-1153  (of  Clairvaux). 

Bernard,  St.     Born  11 50  (of  Cluny). 

Brief  life  is  here  our  portion. 
Hie  breve  vivitur. 
Jerusalem  the  golden. 
Urbs  Syon  aurea. 

23* 


2  7  o  THE  S  TOR  1 '  OF  THE  Hi  'J/iVS. 

Berridge,  John.     1716-1793. 

O  happy  saints,  who  dwell  in  light 
Bethune,  George  W.     1805-1S62. 
Bienemann,  C.     1 540-1 591. 

Come,  O  my  soul,  in  sacred  lays. 
Bilby,  Thomas.     Born  1794-1S72. 

Here  we  suffer  grief  and  pain. 
Binney,  Thomas.     Born  about  1798. 

Eternal  Light  !   eternal  Light  ! 
Birks,  T.  Rawson.     iSio. 

Oh,  covenant  Angel,  full  of  grace. 
Blackie,  Professor  J.  S.     iSog. 

Angels  holy,  high  and  lowly. 
Blacklock,  Dr.  Thomas.     1721-1791. 

Come,  O  my  soul,  in  sacred  lays. 

Blair,  Robert.     1699-1746. 

What  though  no  flowers  the  fig-tree  clothe. 
Blew,  William  John. 

The  day  is  past  and  gone;   Great,  eta 

Bliss,  P.  P.     1S38. 

Almost  persuaded  now  to  believe. 

Blunt,  R.  W. 

Jesus,  thy  blessed  brow  is  torn. 

Bode,  John  Ernest.     1816. 

Thou,  who  hast  called  us  by  thy  word. 

Boden,  James.     1757-1S41. 

Ve  dying  sons  of  men. 
Bonar,  Dr.  Iloratius.     180S.     See  page  194. 

Bonaventura,  Saint.     1221-1274. 

In  the  Lord's  atoning  grief. 
In  passione  Domini. 
Borthwick,  Jane.     1S54. 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt. 
Mein  Jesu,  wie  du  willst. 
Bottome,  Rev.  F.     1S70. 

O  bliss  of  the  purified,  bliss  of  the  free. 
Bourignon,  Antoinette.      1616-1680. 

Come,  Saviour  Jesus,  from  above. 
Venez  Jesus,  mon  salutaire. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  271 


Bowdler,  John.     17S3-1815. 

Lord,  before  thy  throne  we  bend. 

Bowring,  Sir  John.     1792-1S72.     See  page  12S. 

Biackenbury,  R.  Carr.     1752-1S18. 

Come,  Holy  Spirit,  raise  our  songs. 

Lradberry,  David.     1735-1S03. 

Now  let  our  hearts  conspire  to  raise. 

Brady,  Dr.  Nicholas.     1659-1726. 

Brewer,  Jehoida.     1752-1817. 

Hail,  sovereign  love,  that  first  began. 

Bridges,  Matthew.     Born  about  1802. 

Crown  Him  with  many  crowns. 

Bronte,  Anne.     1S20-1S49. 

Brown,  Phoehe  II.     17S3-1S61.     See  page  48. 

Brown,  William. 

Welcome,  sacred  day  of  rest. 

Browne,  Simon.     16S0-1732. 

Come,  gracious  Spirit,  heavenly  Dove. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas.     1605-16S2. 

The  night  is  come;  like  to  the  day. 

Bruce,  Michael.     1746-1767. 

Where  high  the  heavenly  temple  stands. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen.     Born  1794. 

Deem  not  that  they  are  blest  alone. 

Bubier,  Professor  G.  B.     1823. 

I  would  commune  with  thee,  my  God. 

Buckoll,  Henry  J. 

Word  of  Him  whose  sovereign  will. 
Wake,  walte,  nah  und  fern, 
AUgewaltig  Wort  des  Herrn. 

Bulfinch,  Stephen  Greenleaf.     1809-1S70. 

Hail  to  the  Sabbath-day  1 

Bullock,  Dr.  William. 

We  love  the  place,  O  God. 

Bulmer,  Agnes.     1775-1837. 

Thou  who  haM  in  Zion  laid. 


272  THE  Sl^ORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

•Bulmer,  John.     17S4-1S57. 

Lord  of  the  vast  creation. 
Bunting,  William  Maclardie.     1S05-1S66. 

O  God  !  liow  often  hath  thine  ear. 
Eiirde,  Samuel  Gottlieb.     1753-1831. 

Come,  happy  souls,  adore  the  Lamb. 
Burder,  George.     1752-1832. 

Great  the  joy  when  Christians  meet. 

Burgess,'  Bishop  George.     1S09-1S66. 

When  forth  from  Egypt's  trembling  strand. 
Burleigh,  Williain  Henry.     1S12-1871. 

Through  the  changes  of  the  day. 

Burnham,  Richard.     1749-1810. 

Jesus  I  thou  art  the  sinner's  Friend. 
Burns,  James  Drummond.     1823-1864. 

Still  with  thee,  O  my  God. 
Burton,  John,  Sen.     1773-1S22. 

Time  is  winging  us  away. 
Holy  Bible,  book  divine. 
Burton,  John.  Jr.     1S03. 

Pilgrims  we  are,  and  strangers. 

Butcher,  Edmund.     1757-1822. 

Great  God,  as  seasons  disappear. 

Butterworth,  Joseph  Henry. 

Spirit  of  Wisdom  !  guide  thine  own. 

r>yrom,  John.     1691-1763. 

Christians,  awake,  salute  the  happy  mom. 

Caddell,  Cecelia  Mary. 

It  is  finished  !   He  hath  wept. 

Calvin,  John.     1 500-1 564. 

I  greet  thee,  who  my  sure  Redeemer. 
Cambridge,  Ada.     1844. 

Humbly  now,  with  deep  contrition. 
Cameron,  William.     1751-1S11. 

How  bright  these  glorious  spirits  shine. 

Campbell,  Robert.     Died,  186S. 

At  the  Lamb's  high  feast  we  sing. 
Ad  regias  Agni  dapes. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  z-ji 


Campbell,  Thomas.     1777-1S44. 

When  Jordan  hushed  his  waters  still. 
Canitz,  F.  R.  L.,  Baron  von.      1654-1699. 

Come,  my  soul,  thou  must  be  waking. 

Seele,  du  muist  munter  werden. 

Carlyle,  J.  Dacre.     1759-1S04. 

Lord,  when  we  bend  before  thy  throne. 

Carpenter,  Dr.  Joseph  E.     1S13. 

Lord  and  Father  of  creation. 

Caswall,  Edward.     1S14. 

Jesus,  the  very  thought  of  thee. 

Cawood,  John.     1775-1S52. 

Alrflighty  God  !  thy  word  is  cast. 
Cennick,  John.     1717-1755.     See  page  54. 

Chambers,  J.  David. 

E-Kult,  all  hearts,  with  gladness. 
Exultet  cor  praecordiis. 

Chandler,  John.     1S06. 

Christ  is  our  corner-stone. 
Charles,  Mrs.  Elizabeth. 

Never  farther  than  Thy  cross. 

Churton,  Archdeacon  Edward.     iSoo. 

God  of  grace,  O  let  thy  light. 

Clarke,  J.  Freeman.     iSio. 

Hast  thou  wasted  ail  the  powers. 

Clausnitzer,  Tobiah.     1619-16S4. 

Gracious  Jesus  !   in  thy  name. 
Liebster  Jesu,  wir  sind  hier. 

Clayton,  George.     17S3-1S63. 

From  yon  delusive  scene. 

Clemens,  Ale.\andrinus,  Saint.     Died  about  217. 
Shepherd  of  tender  youth. 
Cobbin,  Ingram;     1777-1S51. 

If 't  is  sweet  to  mingle  where. 

Codner,  Elizabeth.     1S60. 

Lord,  I  hear  of  showers  of  blessing. 

Coffin,  Charles.     1676- 1749. 

Creator  of  the  world,  to  thee. 
Te  laeta,  mundi  Creator. 


274  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMXS. 

Collins,  Henry. 

Jesus,  meek  and  lowly. 

Collyer,  Dr.  W.  Bcngo.     17S2-1S54. 

Return,  O  wanderer,  return. 

Conder,  Josiah.     17S9-1S55. 

O  thou  God,  who  hearest  prayer. 
When  I  can  trust  my  all  with  God. 
Conder,  Joan  Elizabeth. 

The  hours  of  evening  close. 
Cool<,  Russell  Salmon.     1814-1864. 

Just  as  thou  art,  without  one  trace. 
Cook,  Mrs.  M.  A.  W.     See  page  252. 

In  some  way  or  other  the  Lord  will  provide. 

Cooper,  J. 

Father  of  heaven,  whose  love  profound. 

Copeland,  William  J. 

Jesus,  the  world's  redeeming  Lord. 
Jesu,  Salvator  sajculi. 

Cosin,  Bishop.     1 594-1672. 

Come,  Holy  Ghost,  our  souls  inspire. 
Veni,  Creator  Spiritus. 

Cosmas,  Saint.     Died,  760. 

Christ  is  born  I    exalt  his  name. 

Cotterill,  Thomas.     1779-1823. 

O'er  the  realms  of  pagan  darkness. 

<"ottle,  Joseph.     1770-1.853. 

From  every  earthly  pleasure. 

Cotton,  Dr.  Nathaniel.     1707-17SS. 

."Xfiliction  is  a  stormy  deep. 

C!o\vper,  William.     1731-1S00.     See  pages  44  and  47. 

Coxe,  Bishop  Arthur  Cleveland.      18 18. 

How  beauteous  were  the  marks  divine. 

Crabbe,  George.     1754-1S32. 

Pilgrim,  burdened  with  ihy  sin. 

Crewdson,  Jane.     1S09-1863. 

There  is  no  sorrow,  Lord,  too  light. 

Croly,  Dr.  George.     17S0-1S60. 

Behold  me.  Lord,  and  if  thou  find. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  275 

Croswell,  Wiliiam.     1S04-1S54. 

Lead,  lead  the  way,  the  Saviour. 

Crosby,  Fanny  J.     Born  1S23. 

Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus. 

Grossman,  Samuel.      1624-16S3. 

S'.veet  place,  sweet  place  alone. 

Cummins,  James  J.     Died,  1867. 

Shall  hymns  of  grateful  love. 

Dale,  Thomas.     1797. 

Dear  as  thou  wert,  and  justly  dear. 

Damiani,  Peter.     9SS-1072. 

For  the  fount  of  life  eternal. 
Ad  perennis  vitas  fontem. 

Dana,  Mrs.  M.  S.  B.     1S50. 

O  sing  to  me  of  heaven. 

Darby,  John  Nelson. 

Rise,  my  soul,  thy  God  directs  thee. 

Davies,  Samuel.     1724-1761. 

Great  God  of  wonders,  all  thy  ways. 
Davis,  Thomas. 

Sing,  ye  seraphs  in  the  sky. 
Dayman,  Edward  Arthur. 

O  splendor  of  the  Father's  might. 
Splendor  paterns  gloris. 

Deacon,  Samuel.     1746-1S16. 

To  Jordan's  streams  the  Saviour. 
Decius,  Nicholas.     Died,  1529. 

To  God  on  high  be  thanks  and  praise. 
Allein  Gott,  in  der  Hoh',  sei  Ehr. 

Deck,  James  George.     Born  1S02. 

It  is  thy  hand,  my  God. 
De  Courcy,  Richard.     1743-1803. 

Jesus,  at  thy  command. 

De  Fleury,  Maria.     1791.     Her  Hymns  and  Poems  uppeared  1791. 
Come,  saints,  and  adore  Him,  come  bow  at  His  feet 

Denny,  Sir  Edward.     1796. 

Light  of  the  lonely  pilgrim's  he4rt. 


276  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Dent,  Caroline. 

Jesus,  Saviour  .'   thou  dosl  know. 

De.-sler,  W.  C.     1660-1722. 

Jesus,  whose  glory's  streaming  rays. 
Mein  Jesu,  dem  die  Seraphinen. 

Dickson,  David.     1 583-1662.     See  page  156. 

O  mother  dear,  Jerusalem. 
Dickinson,  William.     i8i6-i'^6S. 

When  the  gospel  race  is  run. 

Dix,  William  Chatterton.     1S37. 

As  with  gladness,  men  of  old. 

Doane,  Bishop  G.  W.     1799-1859. 

Thou  art  the  Way  !  to  thee  alone. 

Dobell,  John.     17  57-1840. 

Dober,  Anna.     1713-1739- 

Holy  Lamb,  who  thee  receive. 

Doddridge,  Dr.  Philip.     1702-1751.     See  page  34. 

Downton,  Henry.     Born  181S. 

For  thy  mercy  and  thy  grace. 

Dracup,  John.     Died,  1795. 

Thanks  to  thy  name,  O  Lord,  that  we. 

Drennan,  William.     1754-1S20. 

The  heaven  of  heavens  cannot  contain. 

Dryden,  John.     1 632-1 700. 

Creator,  Spirit  !  by  whose  aid. 

Duffield,  George.     1818.     See  page  153. 

Duncan,  Mary  Lundie.     18 14-1840. 

Dvvight,  Timothy.     17 52-18 17.     See  page  252. 

Eber,  Paul.     1511-1569. 

When  in  the  hour  of  utmost  need. 
Wenn  wir  in  hiichster  Noth  und  Pein. 

Edmeston,  James.     1791-1S67.     See  page  165. 

Elizabeth,  Charlotte,  (Tonna.)     1790-1846. 

Rose  of  Sharon,  far  excelling 

Elliott,  Charlotte.     See  page  155. 

Elliott,  Julia  A.     Died,  1841. 

We  love  thee,  Lord,  yet  not  alone- 


HYMN  WRITERS.  277 


Elven,  Cornelius.     1797. 

With  broken  heart  and  contrite  sigh. 
Enfield,  Dr.  William.     1741-1797. 

Behold,  where  in  a  mortal  form. 
England,  Samuel  S.     1810. 

In  anger,  Lord,  rebuke  me  not. 
Ephrem,  Syrus.     Died,  381. 

To  thee,  O  Lord,  loud  praise  ascendeth. 
Evans,  James  Harrington.     1785-1040. 

Change  is  our  portion  here. 
Evans,  Jonathan.     1 749-1809. 

Come,  thou  soul-transforming  Spirit. 
Faber,  Dr.  Frederick  W.     1815-1863.     See  page  187. 
Fanch,  James.     1 704-1 767. 

Beyond  the  glittering  starry  sky. 
Fawcett,  Dr.  John.     1739-1817.     See  p:ige  ^l- 
Fellows,  John.     Wrote  about  1773.     Died  1785. 

Great  God  !  now  condescend. 
Fletcher,  Samuel.     1785-1863. 

Father  of  life  and  light. 
Flowerdew,  Alice.     1759-1830. 

P'ountain  of  mercy,  God  of  love. 
Fortunatus,  V.  H.  C.     530-609. 

The  royal  banners  forward  go. 
Vexilla  regis  prodeunt. 

Fountain,  John.     Born  1767.     Died,  1800. 

Sinners,  you  are  now  addressed. 
Francis,  Benjamin.     1734-1799. 

My  gracious  Redeemer  I  love. 

Frank,  John.     1618-1677. 

Jesus,  my  chief  pleasure. 
Jesu,  meine  Freude. 

Frank,  Solomon.     1659-1725. 

So  rest,  my  Rest. 

So  ruhest  du,  O  meine  Ruh' 

Frelinghuysen,  J.  A.     1670-1739. 

The  day  is  gone. 
Der  Tag  ist  hin. 

24 


278  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Fulbert,  Saint,  (of  Chartres.)     Died  about  1029.     See  page  69. 

Gabb,  James. 

Jesus,  thou  wast  once  a  child. 

Gandy,  Samuel  Whitlock.     Died  about  1858. 

His  be  the  "  victor's  name." 

Gascoigne,  George.     Died,  1577. 

We  that  have  passed  in  shimber  sweet. 

Gellert,  C.  Fiirchtegott.     171 5-1769. 

Jesus  lives,  no  longer  now. 
Jesus  lebt,  mit  Ihm  auch   ch. 

Gerhardt,  Paul.     1606-1676.       See  page  So. 

Gesenius,  Dr.  Justus.     1601-1671. 

O  Lord,  when  condemnation. 
Wenn  mich  die  Siinden  kriinken. 

Geste,  Guillaumede. 

The  Shepherd  now  was  smitten. 
Pastore  percusso,  minas. 

Gibbons,  Dr.  Thomas.     1720-1785. 

Now  let  our  souls  on  wings  sublime. 

Gilbert,  Ann.     1782-1S66. 

Oh,  happy  they,  who  safely  housed. 

Giles,  John  Eustace.     1805-1875. 

Hast  thou  said,  exalted  Jesus  ?     1S37. 

Godescalcus.     Died  about  950. 

The  strain  upraise  of  joy  and  praise.     Alleluia  1 
Cantemus  cuncti  melodum.     Alleluia  ! 

Goode,  William.     1762-1816. 

Thou,  gracious  God,  and  kind. 

Gough,  Benjamin.     1805. 

Awake  !  awake  !   O  Zion. 

Grant,  James.     Died,  1785. 

O  Zion,  afflicted  with  wave  upon  wave. 

Grant,  Sir  Robert.     1785-1838. 

Oh,  worship  the  King. 

Greene,  Thomas.     1785. 

It  is  the  Lord — enthroned  in  light. 

Gregor,  Christian.     1723-1801. 

Man  of  sorrows,  and  acquainted. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  279 

Gregory  the  Great.     550-604. 

Father  of  mercies,  hear  ! 
Audi,  benigne  Conditor. 

Greville,  Dr.  R.  K.     1 794-1866. 

O  God,  from  thee  alone. 

Grigg,  Joseph.     Died,  1768.     See  page  60. 

Guest,  Benjamin.     Died,  1869. 

Heavenly  Father,  may  thy  love. 

Guiet,  Charles.     Died  about  16S4. 

O  Word  of  God  above. 
Patris  jEterni  soboles  coeva. 

Gunn,  H.  Mayo.     Born  1818. 

To  realms  beyond  the  sounding  sea. 

Gurney,  Archer  T.     1820. 

Memorj'  of  the  blest  departed. 

Gurney,  John  Hampden.     1802-1862. 

Lord,  as  to  thy  dear  cross  we  flee. 

Guyon,  Jeanne  B.  de  la  Motte.     1648-1717.     See  page  237. 

Harmer,  J.  Y. 

In  the  Christian  s  home  m  glory. 

Hall,  Mrs.  E.  M. 

I  hear  the  Saviour  say. 

Hall,  C.  Newman.     1816. 

Hallelujah  !   joyful  raise. 

Hamilton,  Dr.  R.  Winter.     1794-1S48. 

Though  poor  in  lot,  and  scorned  in  name. 

Hammond,  William.     Died,  1783. 

Awake,  and  sing  the  song. 

Hankey,  Kate. 

I  love  to  tell  the  story. 

Harland,  Edward.     Born  1809. 

Lord,  when  earthly  comforts  flee. 

Harris,  Dr.  John.     1S02-1856. 

Light  up  this  house  with  glory.  Lord. 

Hart,  Joseph.     1712-1768.     See  page  35. 

Hastings,  Dr.  Thomas.     1784.     This  hymn  was  written  by  the  Rev.  S.  F. 
Smith,  D.  D.,  and  altered  by  Dr.  Hastings. 

To-day  the  Saviour  calls.  . 


28o  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Hatfield,  Edwin  F.     1S07. 

My  Shepherd's  name  is  love. 
Havergal,  William  Henry.     1793. 

Hosanna  !   raise  the  pealing  hymn. 
Havergal,  F.  R.     See  page  169. 

I  gave  my  life  for  thee. 
Haweis,  Dr.  Thomas.     1732-1S20. 

O  Thou,  from  whom  all  goodness  flows. 
From  the  cross  uplifted  high. 

HawKs,  Mrs.  A.  S.     Born  1S35. 

I  need  thee  every  hour. 

Hawkesworth,  Ur.  John.     17 15-1773. 

In  sleep's  serene  oblivion  laid. 

Hawkins,  Ernest.     1S02-1S6S. 

Lord,  the  Saviour's  love  displaying. 
Hayn,  H.  Louisa  von.     1724-1782. 

Seeing  I  am  Jesus'  lamb. 

Weil  ich  Jesu  Schiiflein  bin. 

Heber,  Bishop  Reginald.     1783-1826.     See  page  40. 

Heginbothom,  Ottiwell.     1744-1768. 

God  of  our  life  !  thy  various  praise. 

Hemans,  Felicia  D.     1 794-1835. 

Lowly  and  solemn  be. 
Herbert,  George.     1 593-1632. 

Teach  me,  my  God  and  King. 

Herbert,  Daniel.     1751-1833. 

Come,  dear  Lord,  thyself  reveal. 

Hermann,  Nicholas.     Died  1561. 

Mine  hour  appointed  is  at  hand. 
Wann  mein  Stundlein  vorhanden  ist. 

Herrick,  Robert.     1591. 

In  the  hour  of  my  distress. 

Hervey,  James.     1714-1753. 

Since  all  the  downward  tracks  of  time. 
Hewett,  John  William. 

O  Thou  who  dost  to  man  accord. 
Hildebert,  Archbishop.     Died  1 133. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  281 

Ilildegarde,  Saint.     109S-1179. 

O  Fire  of  God,  the  Comforter.  ^ 

O  ignis  Spiritus  Paracleti. 

Hill,  Rowland.     1 744-1833. 

Ye  that  in  his  courts  are  found. 

Hinds,  Bishop  Samuel.     1793. 

Lord,  shall  thy  children  come  to  thee  ? 

Hinton,  J.  Howard.     I7'9i-i872. 

Once  I  was  estranged  from  God. 

Hogg,  James.     1772-1835. 

O  Thou  that  dwellest  in  the  heavens  high. 

Hojer,  Conrad.     Sixteenth  century. 

Jesus,  my  only  God  and  Lord. 

Homburg,  Ernest  C.     1605-16S1. 

Of  my  life  the  life,  O  Jesus. 
Jesu.  meines  Lebens  Leben. 

Horne,  Bishop  George.     1730-1792. 

See  the  leaves  around  us  falling. 

Hoskins,  Joseph.     Died  17S8. 

The  time  is  short  ere  all  who  live. 

How,  William  Walsham.     1S23. 

Jesus  !  name  of  wondrous  love. 

Huie,  Dr.  Richard.     1795. 

O  ye,  who  with  the  silent  tear. 

Hull,  Amelia  Matilda,     i860. 

There  is  life  for  a  look  at  the  Crucified  One. 

Humphreys,  Joseph.     1720. 

Blessed  are  the  sons  of  Go  '. 

Huntingdon,  Seiina,  Countess  of.     1707-1791.     See  page  loi. 

Hupton,  Job.     1762-1S49. 

Come,  ye  faithf  1,  raise  the  anthem. 

Hurn,  William.     1754- 1829. 

Rise,  gracious  God,  and  shine. 

Huss,  John.     1373-1415. 

Jesus  Christ,  our  true  salvation. 
Jesus  Chri&tus,  nostra  salu5. 

24* 


282  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Hutton,  James.     1715-1795. 

O  teach  us  more  of  thy  blest  ways. 

Hyde,  Ann  Beadley.     Died  1872. 

And  canst  thou,  sinner,  slight  ? 

Ingemann,  Bernhardt  Severin.     1789-1862. 

Irons,  Joseph.     1785-1852. 

Plead  my  cause,  O  Lord  of  hosts. 

Irons,  Dr.  William  J.     1812. 

Day  of  wrath,  O  day  of  mourning. 

Jervis,  Thomas.     1748-1833. 

Lord  of  the  world's  majestic  frame. 

John,  St.  Damascene.     Died  about  780. 

'Tis  the  day  of  resurrection. 

Jones,  Edmund.     Born  1722.     Died  1765. 

Come,  humble  sinner,  in  whose  breast. 

Joseph,  Saint,  (of  the  Studium.)     Ninth  century. 

Let  our  choirs  new  anthems  raise. 

Jowett,  William. 

While  conscious  sinners  tremble. 

Joyce,  James.     17S1-1850. 

Oh  why  should  Israel's  sons,  once  blest. 

Judson,  Dr.  Adoniram.     1788-1850. 

Our  Father,  God,  who  art  in  heaven. 

Keble,  John.     1792-1866.     See  page  igo. 

Kelly,  Thomas.     1769-1855.     See  page  135. 

Ken,  Bishop  Thomas.     1637-1711.     See  page  17. 

Kennedy,  Dr.  B.  Hall.     1804. 

Come,  Lord  Jesus,  take  thy  rest. 

Kent,  John.     1766-1S43. 

Where  two  or  three  together  meet. 

Killinghall,  John.     Died  1740. 

In  all  my  troubles  sharp  and  strong. 

Kingsbury,  William.     1744-18 18. 

Great  Lord  of  all  thy  churches,  hear. 

Kippis,  Dr.  Andrew.     1725-1795. 

With  grateful  hearts,  with  joyful  tongues. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  283 

Klopstock,  F.  G.     1724-1803.     See  page  86. 

Knapp,  Albert.     1798-1S64. 

O  Father,  thou  who  hast  created  all. 

O  Vaterherz,  das  Erd'  und  Himmel  schuf. 

Knorr,  von  Rosenroth  Christian.     1 636-1 689. 

Come,  thou  bright  and  morning  Star. 

Koitsch,  C.  J.     Died  1735. 

O  Fountain  eternal  of  life  and  of  light. 
O  Ursprung  des  Lebens,  O  ewiges  Licht. 

Kynaston,  Dr.  Herbert.     1809. 

Jesus,  solace  of  my  soul. 

Jesu  mi  dulcissime,  Domine  coelorum. 

Lagniel,  John.     Died  1728. 

Doth  He  who  came  the  lost  to  seek. 

Langbecker,  E.  C.  G.     1792-1843. 

What  shall  I  be,  my  Lord,  when  I  behold  thee. 
Wie  wird  mir  sein,  wenn  ich  dich,  Jesu,  sehe. 

Lange,  Ernest.     1650-1727. 

O  God  !  thou  bottomless  abyss. 
O  Gott,  du  Tiefe  sonder  Grund. 

Lange,  Joachim.     1670-1744. 

O  God  !  what  offering  shall  I  give  ? 

Was  soil  ich  denn  nun,  mein  Gott,  zum  Opfer  schenken  ? 

Langford.  ,    ,  ,     ,. 

Now  begm  the  heavenly  theme. 

Laurenti,  Laurentius.     1G60-1722. 

Rejoice,  rejoice,  believers. 
Ermuntert  euch,  ihr  Frommen. 

Lavater,  John  Caspar.     1741-1801. 

O  name,  than  every  name  more  dear. 
O  siissester  der  Namen  all. 

Lee,  Miss  M.  A. 

I  am  far  frae  my  hame,  an'  I'm  weary  oftenwhiles. 

Lee,  Dr.  Frederick  George.     Died  1S68. 

Laud  the  grace  of  God  victorious. 

Leeson,  Jane  E.     Died  1853. 

Their  hearts  shall  not  be  moved. 

Liguori,  Saint  Alphonso.     1696-1787. 

My  Jesus,  say  what  wretch  has  dared. 


284  THE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Lingley,  James. 

Once  more  we  leave  the  busy  road. 
Littledale,  Richard  Frederick. 

Lloyd,  William  Freeman.     1791-1S53. 

Our  times  are  in  thy  hand. 
Logan,  John.     174S-17SS. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wadsworth.     1S07. 

Tell  me  not  in  mournful  numbers. 

There  is  no  flock,  however  watched  and  tended. 

Into  the  Silent  Land.     (Translation.) 

Louisa  Henrietta  (of  Brandenburg).     1627-1667. 

Jesus,  my  Redeemer,  lives. 
Jesus,  meine  Zuversicht. 

Lowry,  Rev.  R.     Born  1826. 

Shall  we  gather  at  the  river  ? 
Luke,  Jemima.     1813.     See  page  146. 
Luther,  Martin.     1483-1546.     Seepage  n;. 

Lynch,  Thomas  Tolse.     181S-1S71. 

Mountains  by  the  darkness  hidden. 
Lyte,  Henry  Francis.     1793-1S47.     See  page  211. 
McCheyne,  Robert  Murray.     1813-1843. 

Macduff,  Dr.  John  Robert. 

Oh  do  not,  blessed  Lord,  depart. 

Mackay,  Margaret.     1832. 

Asleep  in  Jesus,  blessed  sleep. 

Madan,  Martin.     1726-1790. 

Manly,  Basil,  Jr.     1S25. 

Holy,  holy,  holj',  Lord. 

Mant,  Bishop  Richard.     1776-1848. 

Praise  the  Lord,  ye  heavens,  adore  him. 

March,  Henry.     Born  about  1790. 

Oh  send  thy  light,  thy  truth,  my  God. 

Mardley,  John.     Died  1562. 

Maria,  Queen  of  Hungary.     1 505-1 55S. 

Can  I  my  fate  no  more  withstand  ? 


HYMN  WRITERS.  285 


Marriott,  John.     17S0-1825. 

Thou,  whose  almighty  word. 

Marsden,  Joshua.     1777-1S37. 

Go,  ye  messengers  of  God. 
Mason,  John.     Died  1694. 

Blest  day  of  God,  most  calm,  most  bright. 

Mason,  William.     1725-1791. 

Again  returns  the  day  of  holy  rest. 

Masters,  Mary.     1702.     See  page  152. 

'T  is  religion  that  can  give. 

Medley,  Samuel.     173S-1799.     See  page  139. 

Meinhold,  John  William.     1797-1S51. 

Gentle  Shepherd,  thou  hast  stilled. 
Guter  Hirt,  du  hast  gestillt. 

Merrick,  James.     1720-1769. 

Eternal  God,  we  look  to  thee. 

Metrophanes  of  Smyrna.     Died  about  910. 

O  Unity  of  threefold  Light! 

Middleton,  Bishop  T.  Fanshaw.     1769-1S22. 

As  o'er  the  past  my  memory  strays. 
Midlane,  Albert.     1825. 

There's  a  Friend  for  little  children. 

Miles,  Sarah.     1S40. 

Thou  who  didst  stoop  below. 

Millard,  Dr.  James  Elwin.     1S21. 

God  eternal,  mighty  King. 
Mills,  Elizabeth.     See  page  148. 

Milman,  Dean  Henry  Hart.     1791-1S6S. 

When  our  heads  are  bowed  with  woe. 
Milton,  John.     1603-1674. 

How  lovely  arc  thy  dwellings  fair. 
Mogridge,  George.     17S7-1854. 

The  Son  of  God,  the  Lord  of  life. 
Moir,  David  Macbeth.     179S-1851. 

Oh,  who  is  like  the  mighty  one  I 
Monsell,  Dr.  J.  S.  B.     1811-1S75. 

Birds  have  their  quiet  nests.  . 


286  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Montgomery,  James.     1771-1854.     See  page  227. 

Moore,  Thomas.     1779-1852. 

Come,  ye  disconsolate,  where'er  ye  languish. 

More,  Henry.     1614-1687. 

Father,  if  justly  still  we  claim. 

Morell,  Thomas.     1781-1840. 

Father  of  mercies,  condescend. 
Morris,  EHza  Fanny.     182 1. 

God  of  pity,  God  of  grace. 

Morrison,  Dr.  John.     1749-179S. 

The  race  that  long  in  darkness  pined. 

Mott,  Edward.     Born  1797. 

My  hope  is  built  on  nothing  less. 

Moultrie,  Gerard. 

Brother,  now  thy  toils  are  o'er. 

Moultrie,  Mary  Dunlop. 

Agnes,  fair  martyr. 

Muhlenburg,  W.  A.     1796.     See  page  254. 

I  would  not  live  always. 

Naur,  Elias  Eskillsen. 

When  my  tongue  can  no  more. 
Naar  min  Tunge  ikke  mere. 

Neale,  J.  Mason.     1S18-1S66. 

Jerusalem  the  Golden.    (Translation.) 
Brief  life  is  here  our  portion.     (Translation.) 

Neander,  Joachim.     1640-16S0. 

Behold  me  here  in  grief  draw  near. 
Sieh,  hier  bin  ich  Ehren-Konig. 

Needham,  John.     1710-1768. 

To  praise  the  ever-bounteous  Lord. 

Neumark,  George.     1621-16S1. 

Leave  God  to  order  all  thy  ways. 
Wer  nur  den  lieben  Gott  liisst  walten. 

Nevin,  Edwin  H.     1814. 

Always  with  me!  always  with  me! 

Newman,  Dr.  John  Henry.     1801.     See  pages  215,  257. 
Lead,  kindly  light. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  287 

Nicholas,  Tressilian  G.     Born  about  1823. 

Lord,  when  before  thy  throne  we  meet. 

Nicolai,  Dr.  Philip.     1556-1608. 

Wake,  ye  holy  maidens,  fearing. 
Wachet  auf,  ruft  uns  die  Stimme. 

Newton,  James.     1733-1790- 

Let  plenteous  grace  descend  on  those. 

Newton,  John.     1725-1307.     See  page  177. 

Noel,  Hon.  B.  Wriotheseley.     1799-1873. 

Noel,  Hon.  Gerard  Thomas.     1782-1S51. 

If  human  kindness  meets  return. 

Nunn,  Marianne.     1799-1S48. 

One  there  is  above  all  others. 

Nyberg,  L.  T.     1 720-1 792. 

Father,  throned  on  high. 

Oberlin,  John  Frederick.     1740-1826. 

O  Lord,  thy  heavenly  grace  impart 

Odo,  Saint,  (of  Cluny.)     S79-942. 

O  Church,  our  mother,  speak  His  praise. 
Lauda,  mater  ecclesia. 

Olivers,  Thomas.     1725-1799.     See  page  234. 

Onslow,  Phipps. 

Hark!  a  glad  exultmg  throng. 
Christi  caterva  clamitat. 

Opie,  Ameliu     1769-1853. 

There  seems  a  voice  in  every  gale. 

Osier,  Edward.     1798-1863. 

Great  God,  o'er  heaven  and  earth  supreme. 

Oswald,  Henry  Sigismund.     17  51-1837. 

O  let  him  whose  sorrow. 
Wem  in  Leidenstagen. 

Palgrave,  Francis  Turner.     1824. 

Star  of  morn  and  even. 

Palmer,  Dr.  Ray.     1808.     See  page  209. 

Park,  Thomas.     1760-1835. 

My  soul,  praise  the  Lord,  speak  good  of  his  namo. 

Parr,  Harriet. 

Hear  my  prayer,  O  heavenly  father. 


288  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Parson,  Elizabeth.     1812. 

Jesus,  we  love  to  meet. 

Paulus,  Diaconus.     Died  about  799. 

Greatest  of  prophets,  messenger  appointed. 
Ut  queant  laxis  resonare  fibris. 

Peabody,  Dr.  W.  B.  O.     1799-1848. 

Behold  the  western  evenhig  sky. 

Pearce,  Samuel.     1 766-1 799. 

In  the  floods  of  tribulation. 

Perronet,  Edward.     Died  1792.     See  page  13. 

Phillimore,  Greville. 

O  Lord  of  health  and  life,  what  tongue  can  telL 

Pierpont,  John.     17S5-1866. 

O  Thou,  to  whom  in  ancient  time. 

Pope,  Alexander.     16S8-1744.     See  page  62. 

Pott,  Francis. 

Alleluia!  Alleluia!  Alleluia! 

Prudentius,  A.  Clemens.  348.  Died  about  413. 
Earth  has  many  a  noble  city. 
O  sola  magnarum  urbium. 

Prynne,  G.  Rundle.     i860. 

Jesus,  meek  and  gentle. 

Pyer,  John.     1 799-1859. 

Met  again  in  Jesus'  name. 

Rabanus,  Maurus,  Saint.     776-856. 

Christ,  of  the  holy  angels  light  and  gladness. 
Christe,  sanctorum  decus  angelorum. 

Raffles,  Dr.  Thomas.     1788-1S63. 

Lord,  like  the  publican  I  stand. 

Rawson,  George.     1S07. 

Father  of  love  and  power. 

Reed,  Dr.  Andrew.     17S7-1862.     See  page  265. 

There  is  an  hour  when  I  must  part. 

Reed,  Elizabeth.     1794-1867. 

My  longing  spirit  faints  to  see. 

Rhodes,  Benjamin.      1743-1815. 

My  heart  and  voice  I  raise. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  289 


Richter,  C.  F.     1676-1711. 

Thou  Lamb  of  God,  thou  Prince  of  Peace. 

Ringw.nldt,  Bartholomew.     1 530-1 59S. 

Great  God!  what  do  I  see  and  hear  ? 

Rinkart,  Martin.      15S6-1649. 

Now  thank  we  all  our  God. 
Nun  danket  aile  Gott. 

Rippon,  Dr.  John.     1751-1S36. 

Great  God,  where'er  we  pitch  our  tent. 

Robert  II.,  (of  France.)     972-1031.     See  page  67. 

Robertson,  William.     Died  1743. 

The  S.iviour  comes,  no  outward  pomp. 

Robinson,  Robert.     1 735-1790-     •''^e  page  42. 

Rorison,  Dr.  Gilbert.     1S21-1S69. 

Three  in  One,  and  One  in  Three. 

Roscommon,  Earl  of.     Died  1684. 

The  last  loud  trumpet's  wondrous  sound. 

Rossetti,  Christina  G.     1S50. 

What  are  these  that  glow  from  afar  ? 

Rothe,  John  A.     i65S-i753. 

Now  have  I  found  the  ground  wherein. 
Ich  habe  nun  den  Grund  gefunden. 

Russell,  .'Vrthur  Tozer.      1806. 

O  Goi  of  life,  whose  power  benign. 

Russell,  William. 

More  marred  than  any  man  s. 

Ryland,  Dr.  John.     i753-iS:^5- 

Sovereign  Ruler  of  the  skies. 

Saffery,  Maria  Grace.     1773-1858- 

'T  is  the  great  Father  we  adore. 

Sandys  George.     1 577-1643. 

Sing  the  great  Jehovah's  praise. 

Santolitis,  Maglorianus.     1628-16S4. 

Now,  my  soul,  thy  voice  upraising. 
Prome  vocem,  mens,  canoram. 

Santolius,  Victorinus.     1630-1697. 

Disposer  Supreme. 
Supreme  quales  Arbiter.     • 

Story  of  tlitt  Hymns.  2iO 


290  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Scales,  Thomas.     17S6-1S60. 

Amazing  was  the  grace. 
Schenk,  H.  Theodore.     Died  1727. 

Who  are  these  like  stars  appearing  ! 

Wer  sind  die  vor  Gottes  Throne. 

Schmolke,  Benjamin.     1672- 1737. 

Scholefield,  Professor  Jame.<;.     17S9-1S53. 

My  Jesus,  as  thou  wilt! 
Mein  Jesu,  wie  Du  willst. 

Schroder,  J.  H.     1666-1699. 

Wisdom's  unexhausted  treasure. 
AUer  Weisheit  huchste  Fiille. 

Schiitz,  John  Jacob.     1 640-1 690. 

All  praise  and  thanks  to  God  Most  High. 
Sei  Lob  und  Ehr  dem  hiJchsten. 

Scott,  Robert  Allan. 

All  glory  be  to  Thee. 

Scott,  Thomas.     Died  about  1776. 

Angels,  roll  the  rock  away 
Hasten,  sinners,  to  be  wise. 

Seagrave,  Robert.     1693. 

Rise,  my  soul,  and  stretch  thy  wings. 

Sears,  Edmund  H.     1810. 

It  came  upon  the  midnight  clear. 

Sedulius,  Coclius.     Fifth  century. 

Why  doth  that  impious  Herod  fear. 
Hostis  Hcrodes  impie. 

Serle,  Ambrose.     1742-18 12. 

Thy  ways,  O  Lord,  with  wise  design. 

Seymour,  A.  C.  Hobart.     17S9. 

Awake,  all-conquering  Arm,  awake! 

Shepherd,  Anne.     Born  1S09.     Died  1S57. 

Around  the  throne  of  God  in  heaven. 
Shepherd,  Thomas.     1655-1739. 

When  wilt  thou  come  unto  me.  Lord  ? 

Shipton,  Anna. 

Jesus,  Master,  hear  my  cry! 

Shirley,  Hon.  Walter.     1725-1786.      See  page  123. 


HYMNS   WRITERS.  29: 


Shrubsole,  William,  Jr.     1759-1829. 

Arm  of  the  Lord,  awake,  awakel 

Sigourney,  Lydia  Huntley.     1792-1S65. 

Saviour,  thy  law  we  love. 

Simpson,  Jane  Cross. 

Go  when  the  morning  shineth. 

Smith,  Dr.  George.     1S03-1870. 

Thou  art,  O  Christ,  the  way. 

Smith,  Sir  James  Edward.     1759-1828. 

Adore,  my  soul,  that  awful  Name. 
Smith,  Joseph  Denham.     Born  about  1816. 

Just  as  Thou  art — how  wondrous  fairl 
Smith,  Dr.  Samuel  F.     1S09.     See  page  257. 

Smyttan,  George  Hunt. 

Forty  days  and  forty  nights. 

Southey,  Caroline  Anne.     1786-1S54. 

I  weep,  but  not  rebellious  tears. 

Spangenburg,  Augustus  G.     1704-1792. 

What  shall  we  offer  our  good  Lord  ? 
Der  KiJnig  ruht,  und  schauet  doch. 

Spitta,  Dr.  Charles  J.  P.     1801-1S59. 

See,  oh  see,  what  love  the  Father. 
Spurgeon,  Charles  Hadden.     1834. 

The  Holy  Ghost  is  here. 
Stammers,  Joseph.     1801. 

Breast  the  wave.  Christian,  when  it  is  strongest. 
Stanley,  Dean  Arthur  Penrhyn.     181 5. 

He  is  gone,  and  we  remain. 
Steele,  Anne.     1716-1778.     See  page  58. 
.Stennett,  Dr.  Joseph.     1663-17 13.  , 

Stennett,  Dr.  Samuel.     1727-1795. 

On  Jordan's  stormy  banks  I  stand. 
Stephen,  Saint,  (the  Sabaite.)     725-794.     See  page  246. 

Art  thou  weary,  art  thou  languid. 
Sternhold,  Thomas.     Died  1549. 

O  God,  my  strength  and  fortitude. 
Stocker,  John.     About  1776. 

Gracious  Spirit,  Dove  divine. 


292  2^HE  STORY  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Stockton,  Rev.  G.  H. 

Oh  the  blood,  the  precious  blood. 
Stowe,  Harriet  E.  Beecher.  1S14.  See  page  256. 
Stowell,  Canon  Hugh.     1799-1S65.     See  page  249. 

Straphan,  Joseph.     1757. 

Blest  work,  the  youthful  mind  to  win. 

Kvvain,  Joseph.     1761-1796. 

How  sweet,  how  heavenly  is  the  sightl 
Swaine,  Elward.     1795-1S62. 

Lord  Jesus,  let  thy  watchful  care. 

Tappan,  William  Bingham.      1794-1S49. 

There  is  an  hour  of  peaceful  rest. 

Tate,  Nahum.     1652-17 15. 

While  shepherds  watched  their  flocks  by  night. 

Tauler,  John.     1 294-1361. 

There  comes  a  galley  sailing. 
Es  kommt  ein  Schiff  geladen. 

Taylor,  Clare.     Died  1778. 

What  wondrous  cause  could  move  thy  heart  ? 
Taylor,  Jane.     1783- 1824. 

Great  God,  and  wilt  thou  condescend  ? 

Taylor,  Jeremy.     1613-1667. 

Draw  near  to  thy  Jerusalem,  O  Lord. 

Taylor,  T.  Rawson.     1807-1835,     Sec  page  159. 
Tersteegen,  Gerhard.     1697-1769.     See  page  162. 

Thcoctistus.     Died  about  890. 

Jesus  !   name  all  names  above. 
Theodiilph,  Saint.     Died  821.     See  page  245. 

All  glory,  laud,  and  honor. 

Thomas  of  Celano.     Thirteenth  century.     See  page  248. 
Day  of  wrath!   O  day  of  mourning. 

Thring,  Godfrey. 

Watch  now,  ye  Christians,  watch  and  pray. 

Toke,  Emma.     1851. 

O  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  the  snares. 

Tomkins,  Henry  George. 

Come,  Lord  Jesus,  quickly  come. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  293 

Toplady,  Augustus  M.     1740-177S.     See  page  24. 

Tourneaux,  N.  C.     1640-16S6. 

Angels,  to  our  jubilee. 
Ade5.te,  coelitum  chori. 

Trench,  R.  C,  (Archbishop.) 

Pour  fonh  the  oil,  pour  boldly  forth. 

Trend,  Dr.  Henry.     1804. 

Praise,  O  praise  our  heavenly  King. 

Turner,  Daniel.     1710-179S. 

Jesus,  full  of  all  compassion. 

Tuttiet,  Lawrence.     1825. 

Go  forward,  Christian  soldier. 

Upton,  James.     1760-1S34. 

Come,  ye  who  bow  to  sovereign  grace. 

Vaughan,  Charles  J.     Born  about  1817. 

Lord,  whose  temple  once  did  glisten. 

Vaughan,  Henry.     1621-1695. 

My  soul,  there  is  a  country. 

Venn,  Henry.     1724-1797. 

Thy  miracles  of  love. 

Voke,  Mrs.  . 

Ye  messengers  01  Christ. 

Walker,  Mary  Jane. 

The  wanderer  no  more  will  roam. 

Wallin,  Benjamin.     1711-1782. 

Walther,  John.     1711-1782. 

Hail,  mighty  Jesus!   how  divine. 

Walford,  W.  W.     See  page  262. 

Sweet  hour  of  prayer!   sweet  hour  of  prayer! 

Wardlaw,  Ralph.     i799-iSS3- 

Lift  up  to  God  the  voice  of  praise. 

Ware,  Henry,  Jr.     1793-1843. 

Lift  your  glad  voices  in  triumph  on  high- 

Waterbury,  Jared  Bell. 

Sinner,  is  thy  heart  at  rest  ? 

Watts.  Alaric  A.     1797-1864.     See  page  266. 

Watts,  Isaac.     1674-1748.     See  page  219. 


294  THE  STOR  Y  OF  THE  HYMNS. 

Weiss,  Michael.     Died  1540. 

Clirist  the  Lord  is  risen  again. 
Weissel,  George.     1590-1635. 

The  mighty  gates  of  earth  unbar. 
Macht  hoch  das  Thor,  die  Thiiren  weit 
Wesley,  ClTarles.     170S-1788.     See  pages  107,  174,  176,  and  225. 
Wesley,  John.     1703-1791.     See  page  104. 
Wesley,  Samuel.     1 662-1 735. 

Behold  the  Saviour  of  manknid. 
Wesley,  Samuel,  Jr.     1690-1739. 

The  Lord  of  Sabbath  let  us  praise. 
White,  Henry  Kirke.     17S5-1806.     See  page  132. 
Whitfield,  Frederick.     1S29. 

I  need  thee,  precious  Jesus. 
Whiting,  William.     1S25. 

Eternal  Father,  strong  to  save. 
Whittier,  John  Greenleaf.     180S. 

O  Holy  Father,  just  and  true. 
Whytehead,  Thomas.     181 5-1843. 

Resting  from  His  work  to-day. 
Williams,  Helen  Maria.     1 762-1827. 
Williams,  William.     1717-1791.     See  page  30. 
Willis,  Nathaniel  Parker.     1807-1862. 

The  perfect  world  by  Adam  trod. 
Wilson,-Caroline.     1787-1846. 

Often  the  clouds  of  deepest  woe. 
Winkler,  J.  J.     1670-1722. 

Shall  L  for  fear  of  feeble  man  ? 
Sollt'  ich  ans  Furcht  vor  Menschenkindern. 
Wither,  George.     1588-1667. 

Come,  O  come,  with  sacred  lays. 
Wittenmyer,  Annie. 

I  have  entere;!  the  valley  of  blessings  so  sweet. 

Wood,  J.  Riddall. 

As  streams  tha'  from  the  fountain  flow. 

Woodd,  Basil.     1760-1831. 

Blest  be  Jehovah,  mighty  Lord. 


HYMN  WRITERS.  2^5 


Woodford,  James  Russell. 

Thee  we  adore,  O  hidden  Saviour. 
Adoro  Te  devote,  latens  Deitas. 

Wordsworth,  C.     1S07. 

O  day  of  rest  and  gladness. 

Wrangham,  William.     Died  1S32. 

To  thee,  my  righteous  King  and  Lord. 

Wreford,  J.  Reynell. 

Lord,  while  for  all  mankind  we  pray. 

Wright,  Philip  James.     1S10-1S63. 

The  Lord  of  glory  left  his  throne. 

Wyatt,  Henry  Herbert. 

God,  the  Lord,  has  heard  our  prayer. 

Xavier,  Francis.     1 506-1 552.     See  page  71. 

My  God,  I  love  thee;  not  because. 
O  Deus,  ego  amo  te. 

Young,  Andrew.     iSio.     See  page  146. 

Zinzendorf,  N.  L.     1700-1760.     See  page  99. 


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